Fires of Crete

Adrianna Dane

www.loose-id.com

Fires of Crete
Copyright © December 2010 by Adrianna Dane
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eISBN 978-1-60737-910-2
Editor: Sherri Lynn
Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs
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Chapter One

Upon the waters of the Mediterranean rests an isle of the Minoan race.

Passions erupt when he’s consumed by lust for a man destiny marks as his

mate.

That was not the mantinada on the placard in front of him but one that slowly

formed in his fantasies during the long flight from the US to the bustling city of

Heraklion on the island of Crete. Lust was such a small word for the gorgeous man

holding up the white signboard handwritten with a welcoming message in Greek.

Andrew, weary after the flight and the time change and the tedious passage

through customs, suddenly was reinvigorated with a flood of fresh adrenaline. He

was here at last. And the man waiting for him was more than he could have hoped.

An image of Icarus flashed into his mind. Of the erotic statue that graced his

home back in the suburbs of Boston. Well-formed, lean, and wiry. He imagined well-

defined pecs beneath the casual shirt stretched across his chest. Legs that could

grip, hips thrusting. Biceps, not bulging with muscle, but strong and fit, forearms

well able to hold a man, to grip a hip, to claim control.

Andrew, at thirty-nine, hadn‟t felt this randy in longer than he cared to

remember.

“Stephanos?” he inquired, needing desperately to confirm that the man was

waiting for the dusty American professor, with whom he‟d struck up a conversation

online about the history of Crete.

The dusky-skinned young Greek grinned, showing the whitest teeth Andrew

imagined he‟d ever seen. Against a darkly tanned complexion and eyes that rivaled

a gleaming Mediterranean sea for breathtaking, Andrew once again was reminded

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of a winged man soaring high in the sky headed directly toward the burning heart

of an immense auriferous orb.

The anticipation was almost more than Andrew could bear. His cock was

already hard and pressing against his blue jeans. His heart pounded in his chest,

the excitement making his skin tingle. A ray of afternoon sunlight highlighted

Stephanos‟s wild curly blue-black hair that defied confinement.

“Yassas. Hello, Andrew. Ne—yes, it is I, Stephanos.”

Stephanos. Young. Beautiful. Greek.

Your cock, long and thick, driving deep, stretching my hole, consuming me.

God, yes. He wanted that with the man standing in front of him. At this

moment, he needed it more than the history he‟d come to Crete to find. They‟d never

really spoken out loud about sexual preferences. And Stephanos‟s online profile had

been decidedly uninformative on any personal level. The relationship they‟d struck

up had been through a Greek history site. It had been more an undeniable impulse

than anything else that had Andrew contacting Stephanos. That and the fact he

lived on Crete and had an interest in history. And that‟s what they‟d discussed,

more in relation to Andrew‟s past and a history he wanted to discover. After more

than a year of building a friendly relationship, Stephanos had invited Andrew to

visit Crete, and he‟d offered to be Andrew‟s guide and interpreter. How could

Andrew refuse?

He‟d had qualms about making the trip. After all, what did he really know

about Stephanos? The man had shared so little of himself. He couldn‟t turn down

the invitation. Something far stronger than he understood had him making that

reservation without only fleeting second thoughts. But meeting the man face-to-

face, he knew it was the right decision, and it was going to take every bit of control

he could muster to keep his hands off Stephanos until invited. Words seemed

lacking at the moment. All he could do was stare at Stephanos, drinking in the

beauty of the man, the exotic perfection. God, how he hoped the man was gay. He‟d

been up front with Stephanos pretty much from the beginning. His online profile

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was completely honest. Approaching the matter in a more direct fashion was fairly

easy to do in an anonymous e-mail. He‟d done it more or less in a conversational

manner, tied in some ways to Greek history. Stephanos had never indicated

whether he was gay or straight. They‟d never approached the subject again after

that. But Stephanos had indicated in passing that he wasn‟t in a relationship at the

moment.

The tension thickened as Stephanos stared back. There was that moment, that

urge to reach out and hug Stephanos close. The painful urge to want to kiss him, to

learn his body, to discover the newness.

I’ve been waiting for you, Andrew. Let’s go home and fuck. Those were the

words Andrew wanted to hear. Yes, Stephanos. Anything, any way. Those were the

words Andrew wanted to say. He could taste the words. They sounded loud and

pleasantly arousing inside his head.

Stephanos turned away, breaking the connection. Andrew released a long,

pent-up breath. The moment had passed. For now.

“Let‟s go,” Stephanos said. He relieved Andrew of one of his suitcases. “My

apartment is not far. I expect you would like to rest. A fresh look out—I mean

outlook—in the morning would be best, I think.”

Andrew could listen to Stephanos‟s voice forever. His heavily accented

intonation, somewhat shy and carefully pronounced speech. He had told Andrew he

wanted to work on perfecting his English while Andrew was visiting.

For a second Andrew stared at Stephanos‟s lips—that fleshy lower lip, skin

that Andrew wanted to taste, to tug at, to see what sounds Stephanos might

make—deep and guttural? Or a long, slow sigh?

He bet the man could suck too. Fuck, he had to stop thinking about sex. That

wasn‟t what he was here for. But the young, sexy godlike man with the perfectly

proportioned ass, leading the way toward the exit, was terribly inviting. Andrew

watched him navigate through the crowds, moving with a fluid and easy gait.

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Andrew was not known for taking chances. He liked his well-ordered life. He

was old-school, the type of man who didn‟t ordinarily involve himself in complicated

intimate relationships. Most of the men he‟d found some measure of satisfaction

with didn‟t want to hear about the Mycenaean Age. They didn‟t much care about

Theseus or the Minotaur. They didn‟t care how many times Crete had been invaded,

how they had triumphed, how the people possessed a vast and profound courage.

They hadn‟t minded learning about the exotic sex lives of the Greeks. The

secret rooms, the elite sects that catered to the eroticism of ancient Greek life. That

had invariably been the topic that had gotten them into bed. He‟d never had a

problem getting a sex partner, and he‟d always had a way of telling his erotic

stories—showing it—that left his partners infinitely satisfied and eager for more.

But satisfaction was inevitably short-lived and the relationships, if one could call

them that, superficial.

For Andrew, something had been missing. There had to be more to it. History

wasn‟t simply about titillating sex fables, and when he‟d discovered Stephanos

online during a chat on the Spartan society, it was like he‟d found a soul mate at the

cerebral level. They had taken their exchange outside of the more populated chat

room and spent hours in conversation and debate. It was exciting in a way he‟d

never felt before. And now, meeting him, he wondered—could the cerebral truly

meld with a more intimate relationship? Could they find common ground?

Two weeks—he had only two weeks to find out. And he couldn‟t wait to get

started.

* * *

The attraction caught Stephanos unaware. All he could think of was slamming

Andrew up against the wall, kissing him deep, and then fucking him hard. That

was the first image that suffused his mind when he saw the handsome, rather

rumpled studious-looking man with the baggage approaching him. The glasses he‟d

pocket first, so they wouldn‟t be damaged. The gold-flecked beard would scratch and

burn; perhaps the mustache would tickle a bit. Oddly, he realized he‟d never been

Fires of Crete

with a man sporting a beard before. All his rather clandestine relationships had

been with clean-shaven men. He was intrigued by the possibilities. Stephanos, after

months of e-mails, had finally gotten up the courage to invited Andrew to come to

Crete, and Stephanos had to find the courage to tell the sexy professor he wanted

more than just to be his friend and interpreter.

He fisted his hands tighter around the steering wheel of his Swedish-made

compact station wagon as they waited in backed-up traffic.

“You should post a new photograph on your profile, Andrew.”

Andrew turned from staring out the window at the sights of Heraklion. “You

don‟t like it?”

They sat stagnant, motor running, nowhere to go. Stephanos studied Andrew.

“You look much older in the photo. It does not do you justice. You look

much…younger in person. And your words—they make you sound older in your e-

mails as well.”

Traffic inched forward; Stephanos returned his attention to the road. Horns

blared; people yelled. And Andrew smelled very, very good in the confined

atmosphere. Winter meant the sun set early. It was raining, which was probably

the reason for the slower traffic, most likely a collision up ahead.

“Are you…flirting with me, Stephanos?”

The air in the car turned thick with sexual tension and excitement. Traffic

stalled once again. He hesitated to answer.

“Are you gay, Stephanos? Or are you a straight guy just looking for a quick

holiday hookup? Something exotic to try? You‟ve never said.”

Stephanos knew his answer would likely change everything. Was he ready for

this? Admitting it out loud was a huge leap for him. The last time he‟d told someone

he was gay, he‟d paid a high price. Since then he was very careful about revealing

anything personal about himself, except in very controlled situations. No one at

work knew he was gay. At least it had never come up in conversation. And he was

careful about the places he frequented, the men he fucked. Yes, he was very careful.

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Until now.

“What if I were flirting with you? What if I admitted I was…gay?” He held his

breath as he awaited Andrew‟s response. Both afraid and excited.

“I‟d say, thank God,” Andrew said in a low, breathless tone. “I was afraid

either you wouldn‟t be gay, or you wouldn‟t be interested.”

“I wanted to meet you first. For me, it‟s not an easy thing to speak of my

sexuality.”

Suddenly, Andrew released his seat belt and leaned toward Stephanos. His

hand went to the thick bulge outlined against Stephanos‟s jeans. His teeth razed at

the curve of Stephanos‟s ear.

“Ahh, this isn‟t exactly the place to start something,” Stephanos said, trying to

keep his attention on the still-halted traffic.

“We‟re not going anyplace just yet, are we? Nobody can see in—it‟s pitch-black,

and the windows are fogged.” His hand kneaded Stephanos‟s cock rhythmically.

Stephanos licked his lips and then glanced at Andrew. Andrew grabbed the

moment. He fastened his mouth to Stephanos‟s lips, and fireworks exploded behind

Stephanos‟s closed eyelids. He opened his mouth, and Andrew‟s tongue plunged

inside, and Stephanos‟s brain seemed to explode. More than he‟d hoped. Definitely

worth the risk of being arrested for indecent public displays.

Andrew nuzzled Stephanos‟s dark five o‟clock shadowed jaw.

“How soon before we get to your apartment?” His hand rubbed against

Stephanos‟s erection. God, he wanted out of this traffic right this minute. He

wanted Andrew‟s hand inside his pants, his fingers curled around his prick.

“Soon. Now get your seat belt back on before we are arrested.”

Stephanos felt disappointment ooze though him as Andrew eased back into his

seat. Stephanos heard the click of the seat belt.

He tried to get his mind on something else rather than his raging desire to

fuck Andrew. He gripped the steering wheel. He thought of his father, the stony

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expression on his face when Stephanos had told him he was gay. The anger and

painful words that had ensued. The deep cut into his heart of being disowned by his

entire family. He hadn‟t returned to his village since that encounter. He‟d tried to

call; he‟d written letters. None had been answered.

This Christmas would have been another spent alone. He glanced at Andrew.

But he wouldn‟t be alone this year. This year, he‟d taken a chance, perhaps an

impulsive risk, because he couldn‟t stand it any longer. He‟d reached out, and

Andrew had been there.

“It was almost a year ago exactly that we first connected,” he said. He inhaled

the scent of Andrew‟s sophisticated cologne.

“I remember,” Andrew said. “Christmas Eve. I‟d taken a break from the family

and gone into my father‟s study to check my e-mail. Yours caught my attention.”

Andrew had been surrounded by family. Stephanos had been alone in his

apartment.

“Does your family know that you are gay?” He couldn‟t help asking.

“Yes. They‟ve known almost from the first. They took it in stride as they do

most everything. Sort of a badge among their friends.” He raised his voice an octave.

“„Oh, Andrew is gay, you know.‟” Stephanos heard an underlying tension in the tone

of Andrew‟s voice. He waited for Andrew to say more, but he didn‟t.

“And they are right with it then?”

“Not much of a problem. They‟ve very, what would you call it? Enlightened?”

Traffic began to move at a more even pace.

“The holidays are very important for your family, Andrew?”

“It‟s the one time we usually can manage to get together. So I guess so. But not

this year. They‟re headed for a cruise to the Caribbean this year.”

“But you are here? Were your parents not upset?”

“I‟m thirty-nine, Stephanos, and they know this is important to me.”

“They are not challenged by the fact you want to discover your birth family?”

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“Challenged? Oh, you mean feeling threatened by it? No, as I said, they‟re

pretty open-minded. They understand.” But again, there was something odd in

Andrew‟s intonation.

Stephanos finally turned into the parking garage of his apartment building.

He found his slot, turned in, and shut off the engine. He undid his seat belt and

then looked at Andrew. The car was dark, the garage low lit. And he could smell

Andrew‟s light cologne.

“I‟m glad you chose to come here.” His words were softly spoken but heartfelt.

A warm hand searched for his, and he threaded his fingers through Andrew‟s.

“I‟m glad I came too, Stephanos. I wouldn‟t have missed this for anything.”

Then lips met again, once more in the dense darkness, a promise and a

demand.

Two weeks. Stephanos had two weeks to explore this relationship, to know

Andrew in every way he had never even dared imagine he would have a chance to

do.

Two weeks that he most likely would never forget.

Fires of Crete

Chapter Two

Sensory overload was a mild phrase to use, Andrew thought, as his insides and

his brain seemed to explode with everything that had happened since his flight

landed. Or maybe it was even before that. Suddenly things were moving at light

speed. His brain buzzed as if he‟d imbibed a line of strong caffeine shots. And then,

of course, there was Stephanos. He watched as Stephanos stowed his suitcases in a

back room of the apartment. The anticipation of what might come next, especially

after the foreplay in the car, had Andrew aching with arousal.

“It is small, I know,” said Stephanos apologetically as he stepped from the

room.

“It‟s fine. It‟s a great apartment, and the view is breathtaking.” Coming from a

small, sleepy sort of college town on the outskirts of Boston, the Heraklion cityscape

was mesmerizing, ancient and contemporary blended together. Not to say that

Boston didn‟t have its historical and contemporary blend. But on Crete the history

went so much further, encompassing such diverse cultures. He stared out the

window. He could hear the bustling of noisy traffic. From this distance, especially at

night with all the lights sparkling, the view was stunning. Andrew was excited by

the chance of discovering the city‟s secrets.

“I‟ll admit it—I traded the chance for a large apartment because I fall in love

with the view. But there is only just me, so it is fine, I think. At least for now.”

Was that an indication that perhaps someday Stephanos expected to share it

with another man?

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It wasn‟t overly decorated, but understated and tasteful. What few pieces of

furniture were visible seemed well chosen with simple, contemporary lines. All done

in shades of tans and browns and white-painted walls.

Stephanos entered the living room from the kitchen carrying two wineglasses.

He handed one to Andrew.

“Mandelaria,” he said. “I hope you like it.”

They sat on the sofa. Stephanos at one end and Andrew took the other. He took

a gulp of the dry red wine. A good flavor.

Stephanos smiled, almost a look of relief. “My cousin has a vineyard on the

other side of the island. He sends me a case every now and then.”

The conversation turned to wines—white and red. Retsina and Mandelaria.

Small talk. Get-acquainted conversation. But Andrew‟s inner thoughts ran a

different line altogether. And it wasn‟t to the antiquities of Crete or the museums of

Heraklion—encompassing his particular passion as a researcher. It didn‟t turn to

the search for his missing past.

When Stephanos took his empty wineglass, their fingertips brushed, and an

electrical surge ran through Andrew at that simple contact. Stephanos gazed down

into his eyes. He released the glass, and he laid his hand over Andrew‟s, stroked his

fingers over the back of Andrew‟s wrist. Andrew‟s breath lost its way in his chest,

stopped to gather painfully, even as arousal gripped him tightly in his crotch.

Stephanos stroked again. An arrow of electricity shot from wrist to cock. And then

Stephanos straightened away, taking the glass with him—taking the warmth of his

presence, leaving his scent lingering on Andrew‟s skin. Leaving the echo of that

touch against his wrist. He placed his other hand over the spot and rubbed his skin,

trying to absorb, to hold on to that connection.

“There‟s a café near Theotokopoulou Square where I know the food is good. I

thought we might go there for dinner. Perhaps not so heavy a meal. If you‟re

agreeable. That is, if you‟re not too weary after the long trip.”

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Andrew knew he should be exhausted, especially factoring in jet lag. Unable to

gain any restful sleep on the plane, too excited to get his mind to shut down,

essentially he‟d been up for more than twenty-four hours straight. At some level, he

felt the exhaustion. But being in Stephanos‟s company was like a jolt of caffeine

injected directly into his bloodstream. All he wanted was more of Stephanos, not

sleep. He tried to slow down.

“That sounds great. After airplane food, I‟d enjoy some authentic Greek

cuisine. Lead the way.” He grinned, and Stephanos smiled in return. God, but he

didn‟t want to eat; he didn‟t want to sleep. He wanted to take this gorgeous Greek to

bed and not leave it for the next fourteen days.

“Great. You can freshen up, and then we‟ll go. You‟ll take the bedroom. I shall

sleep on the sofa. The bathroom is just off the bedroom.”

“No. That‟s not right,” Andrew argued. “Believe me, I‟ve had a lot rougher

accommodations. The couch will be just fine for me.”

“Not in my home, Andrew. I will not have it. The plan is made, please. You will

insult me if you do not accept my hospitality.”

There was no way Andrew could graciously refuse even though he didn‟t feel

right about it. What his better preference would be was to share the bedroom with

Stephanos. But even with the immediate attraction that had already been

established, and with the short time Andrew would be on Crete, he didn‟t push the

issue. What if he had misunderstood the signals? Perhaps he wanted it to happen

too much. Perhaps he was more tired than he thought.

After a refreshing shower and a change of clothes, Andrew felt revived and a

trifle calmer. They took a taxi from the apartment to the café. Andrew tried to relax.

“This is the old section of Heraklion,” Stephanos said as the cab drew up to the

entrance and they exited on Theotokopoulou Street. “I thought you might enjoy a bit

of atmosphere with dinner.”

It was too cold to eat outside, but Stephanos found a table near the window,

which looked out onto a small park at Theotokopoulou Square. After scanning the

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menu, Andrew ordered the kleftiko, which was a flaky filo pastry filled with feta

cheese, tender meat, and succulent vegetables. Andrew tucked into it as soon as the

food hit the table. He hadn‟t realized how hungry he was, but his plate was empty

before he knew it. A cup of strong Greek coffee and a slice of baklava for dessert

topped the meal off amazingly well.

The conversation with Stephanos was companionable, almost as though they‟d

known each other for years, rather than simply communicating via e-mail for the

last twelve months. It was an easy relationship as they spoke of work, their shared

interest in Greek history, particularly the Minoan period, and touching on world

events and continuing economic struggles of both their countries.

“Many are concerned with their job security and futures. This last year has

been very difficult with much upheaval for everyone.”

Andrew nodded. “Same in the US. Jobless rates are up, banks closing—makes

for a very volatile and unstable environment.”

Stephanos took a sip of his coffee, and Andrew noticed the fullness of his lips—

the wetness of his lower full lip especially—and wondered what the man would

taste like right now. He couldn‟t help himself. He was strongly attracted to

Stephanos, yet unsettled. He was a guest and thought it best to take his cues from

Stephanos. And so he waited, albeit rather impatiently.

“One has to be careful at work, you know,” Stephanos said. He looked away

from Andrew and out the window across the square. “One must consider

appearances. It is not so easy here in my country as it is in America.”

Andrew had a feeling he knew what Stephanos was getting at. Several friends

of his were still trying to get tenure after coming out as being gay. It wasn‟t easy.

He‟d been fortunate. The college he taught at had more liberal leanings. Teaching at

the lower grades could be more of a tricky tightrope.

“I think I know what you mean. Even in the States there are still places one

needs to be careful. It isn‟t always as easy as what it might appear to be on the

outside.”

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Stephanos looked at Andrew. He had the most amazing eyes that Andrew had

ever seen. They seemed to change color. Tonight the color looked like dark sapphire.

Almost a bottomless ocean of midnight blue. “Is that true?” he asked. “What about

you, Andrew? Is your career in jeopardy?”

“No. Not mine, but I‟ve seen the problems that several of my associates have

had. It makes me angry. I‟ve sure attended my share of demonstrations.”

“But your family supports you. That is a good thing.”

“Yeah, I guess they do. It should be enough, shouldn‟t it? My life is pretty good

when compared to a lot of what goes on. But there‟s still this restlessness. The need

to know where I really came from. Maybe it‟s stupid, but I can‟t help it.”

“To connect with your blood.” Stephanos nodded. “Blood is important. It is our

history, our ancestors that make us who we are.”

“Some people would say our environment is what fashions us. That nature-

versus-nurture controversy. Maybe it‟s the researcher in me, but how do I know if I

haven‟t got a clue what my birth parents were like?” He took a sip of his coffee.

“Enough about me. Tell me, Stephanos, does your family know you‟re gay?”

Andrew‟s last question seemed to have caught Stephanos off guard, as he

hesitated. A range of expressions crossed his face before he answered. “Yes. They

know.”

“Do they live here in Heraklion?”

“No. They live in the mountains.” Stephanos was again silent for a long time.

Andrew studied the dark-eyed man sitting across from him. Something told him

that Stephanos‟s coming out had not been an easy time for him. There was

something very reserved about him, as though he dared not share too much of his

feelings with anyone. He looked as though he‟d been…wounded. Empathy shot

through Andrew. He didn‟t pry, though. This relationship was too new, and he

didn‟t want to endanger it before it had even gotten started.

“I showed the picture around of the medallion,” Stephanos said, changing the

subject.

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Andrew reached for the medallion that hung around his neck. Excitement

began to build, but this time for another reason. “Did you find out anything?”

“Yes.” Stephanos seemed relieved that the topic of discussion had moved back

to Andrew. “The medallion is apparently old. The kind of good luck charm passed

down from mother to daughter, particularly in the mountain villages. It was

perhaps worn as protection in ancient times. The symbols on the disc seem to

indicate, as you suspected, that it may have originated from somewhere around

Anogia.

Andrew leaned forward, excited by this news. “And we can go there?”

“This time of year it will be easy to get trapped on those high mountain roads.

But I will check the weather reports. So far the roads are clear, and I think we can

make the trip if we time it right.”

At last he might find out the identity of his birth mother. Perhaps there might

be some information on who his father was as well. His roots. Sometimes he

wondered if his whole fascination with Greek history was because he had no

personal history of his own. He had always found himself trying to glean something

from his studies that marked who he was. And he‟d never been successful. Until he

met Stephanos online.

He reached out to clasp Stephanos‟s hand and squeezed. He felt Stephanos

stiffen at the contact, but he didn‟t pull away. Andrew hadn‟t even thought about

the fact that Stephanos might need to keep the secret of his sexuality away from

public prying eyes. His action had been simply a spontaneous moment of sharing

and connection, and he‟d been too excited by the possibilities. Slowly, he pulled his

hand away.

“I-I‟m sorry. I didn‟t mean…”

“No, Andrew. I am sorry. It‟s just…”

Andrew would have reached out again just to comfort Stephanos, but then

thought better of it. He was in a different country, and he didn‟t know the rules.

He‟d done enough traveling to know that it paid to tread carefully around other

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cultures. Stephanos was going to have to live here after he left. He didn‟t want to

ruin things for him. Andrew stifled a yawn. Jet lag was catching up with him with a

vengeance.

“We should go. You are exhausted. Tomorrow, after you‟ve had some rest, we

will talk about plans to go to Anogia.”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me. God, this is kicking my ass.” He tripped on the

doorsill as they exited the café. This time it was Stephanos who reached out to

steady him with a strong hand to Andrew‟s arm. The touch was electric. A long

minute passed before Stephanos slowly released him and then quickly stepped away

to hail a cab.

Even as tired as he was, Andrew couldn‟t help wanting Stephanos in a way

that wasn‟t simply friendship. But was a holiday romance what he really wanted?

He had a feeling if he did pursue this…thing…with Stephanos, he wouldn‟t want it

to end when his vacation was over. But how could it be anything else when his work

was back in the US and Stephanos‟s was here?

A cab pulled up, and Stephanos motioned for him to get in. It took every last

ounce of energy to drop onto the seat of the cab, and every speck of willpower to stay

awake until they arrived at the apartment building. He just wasn‟t in the right

frame of mind to consider any sort of decent follow-through with Stephanos right

now. Bed and sleep were about his only options at the moment.

* * *

“Get out! You are no son of mine. I have enough daughters! You are dead to me.

Dead!”

Stephanos stared up at the ceiling through the darkness of the living room lit

only by the light of a full moon, his father‟s angry words echoing inside his head. He

threw his arm up over his eyes, trying to block out the memory of the last time he

had seen his father. Or to be more accurate, the back of his father and his

grandfather as well.

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He remembered the tears welling in his mother‟s large dark eyes as she pulled

the black shawl up over her head and turned her back on him. She had no other

choice. Stephanos‟s father was the head of the Angelika household; his word was

law. If Stephanos‟s father said his son was dead, then he was dead to the whole

family. Even his little sisters.

Three years ago, right after his return from attending university in the United

States, Stephanos had big dreams. He‟d been an idealist, and having spent four

years in Boston, he‟d found friends who understood and shared his lifestyle. He

remembered his first kiss, his first lover, his first march. He‟d become used to

existing in a circle of acceptance. He‟d become complacent, forgetting the old-world

traditions, the demands of his family‟s religious precepts. He‟d thought they would

accept him for who he was, who he had become. And that idealism had been

shattered with the force of a nuclear explosion.

Cautious online relationships became the only safe haven he had come to

know. He‟d found a place for himself in Heraklion, a job that paid well with the

possibility of advancement if he worked hard. As long as he pretended to be

someone he was not. He dared not make friends, dared not let anyone get too close.

Dared not let anyone he worked with discover that he was gay. The deep wounds

left by the confrontation with his family took a long time to heal.

If he‟d never lived the life of a gay man in Boston, perhaps it would have been

different. He would have understood and accepted that he could never let anyone

know he was gay. But he had tasted that freedom, and now it was a heavy burden—

a suffocating burden—to live closeted once more. Before, there‟d been no real

urgency to live openly as gay again. He could take the time to mend, to build his

protective barriers. He was no longer the naive young man he had once been.

And now there was Andrew, in the flesh, just on the other side of the closed

bedroom door. Stephanos could still smell Andrew‟s aftershave. Having Andrew

here, in his apartment, was probably one of the hardest things he would ever do.

Because he wanted him, ached to be in that bed with him, making love to him.

Fires of Crete

Doing all those things that he could only secretly fantasize about. It was just too

tempting.

He slid his hand down past the waistband of his pajama bottoms. His fingers

curled around his cock and slowly he began to stroke up and down the engorged

flesh. He stifled a moan. But even his fast breaths seemed loud in the silence of the

dead of night. He shoved the blanket aside and sat up. Lifting up, he shoved his

pajama bottoms down. He gripped his cock, jerked his hand up and down, hunched

forward as he fantasized about fucking Andrew.

He imagined himself removing Andrew‟s gold-rimmed glasses and setting

them aside. Of pushing him to his knees. Of Andrew‟s lips closing around

Stephanos‟s cock. Of Andrew sucking him, lips stretched tight, his saliva wetting

his prick thoroughly. Andrew‟s hands gripping his balls in a way that kept

Stephanos on edge, and his mouth and tongue worked Stephanos into a frenzy.

Stephanos trembled as he worked his hand up and down the rigid length of his

prick. He felt the wetness of seeping precum. Pressure built, drawing up his balls,

his cock hot and slick. And then he exploded, shuddering in the aftermath, dropping

forward, trying to control the moan of ecstasy. Trying to control his emotions and

his fantasies.

Quietly he padded into the bathroom, cleaned himself up, donned his pajama

bottoms, and then stretched back out on the sofa. He had to wonder if he really was

going to get any rest during the next couple of weeks. And it had nothing to do with

the comfort of the sofa.

He‟d worked hard to get where he was at his job as an IT specialist. He

couldn‟t put all that in jeopardy just for the sake of a holiday romance, could he? His

expertise was growing; his superiors seemed to have more confidence in his ability

to take on more complex projects. He‟d dedicated himself to succeeding, worked late

at night, gone in early in the mornings, trying to gain the upper edge.

He didn‟t frequent the few gay nightclubs that were available in Heraklion. He

didn‟t flaunt his lifestyle. When he did hook up, it was done quietly. But even he

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had to ask himself how long he thought he could stay below the radar. And did he

really want to? Meeting Andrew brought everything back to the forefront of his

thoughts. Was he ready to risk everything again and perhaps destroy any hope of

achieving success in his profession? What would happen to him if he lost his job? He

didn‟t have a family to go back to, no one to support him. He‟d isolated himself from

a community that might have lent support.

Again, he stared up at the ceiling, fixating on a small crack at the corner. Kind

of like the shell he‟d erected around himself. He‟d have to call the super and have

that attended to. But what about the crack in his own facade? Who was going to

attend to that? And what would happen if he just let himself crack wide open and

rebuilt himself into the man he yearned to be?

Andrew‟s presence was making him see everything in a different light. Or was

it that the loneliness had simply become too much to bear? Stephanos had a feeling

when Andrew‟s visit was over, no matter the outcome, Stephanos would be changed.

For better or worse was yet to be determined. Who knew that answering a simple e-

mail inquiry would lead to this? Stephanos closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep.

The dead of night was no time to make life-changing decisions. Perhaps morning

would bring fresh insight.

Fires of Crete

Chapter Three

Andrew slept longer than he should have. As soon as his head hit the pillow,

he was out and knew nothing until the smell of fresh coffee and croissants awoke

him the next day. He looked at the clock and was amazed to find it was actually

closer to noon than his usual time to rise which was nearer to six. He hauled

himself out of bed, grabbed some clothes, and headed for the bathroom. The shower

helped to wake him up, and after getting dressed and straightening the bedroom, he

made his way to the kitchen.

“Good morning. Sorry I slept so late,” he said as he ran a hand through his

hair. “I‟m usually an early morning riser. Guess I was more whipped by the flight

and time change than I expected.”

Stephanos looked like he should be part of the meal. Gorgeously relaxed in a

pair of casual tan slacks and an open-necked blue knit shirt that seemed to deepen

his complexion and the gleaming blue of his pupils, he looked scrumptious. And

when he set aside the newspaper he‟d been reading and grinned, Andrew almost

lost what breath he had in his lungs. Stephanos unfolded from the chair.

“Sit, Andrew. I‟m not much the cook, but I ran out to the bakery around the

corner and bought some fresh-baked croissants. Believe me, they will taste much

better than my cooking.” He grabbed a mug from the cupboard, poured out a cup of

coffee, and passed it to Andrew. “Sugar? Cream?”

“Neither,” Andrew said, then cautiously drank down the coffee. Oh, yeah.

Perfect. Hot, but not enough to cause serious injury to his tongue. “This is all I need

to get me started. God, yes. This is damned good coffee.”

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“I learned how to make it when I was attending college in the US. I had a part-

time job at a coffee house. One of the few things I can cook with any competency.”

Andrew grabbed one of the croissants and then glanced up at Stephanos. “I

didn‟t realize you‟d gone to college in the States. I don‟t know why I never asked you

about that before. Your English is very good.”

Stephanos shrugged. “We didn‟t exchange résumés or family histories. Both of

us were interested in a different sort of history, I think.”

“Or perhaps you just didn‟t want to talk about your own history?” Andrew

suggested. That ripple of expressions crossed Stephanos‟s face again. Hesitancy,

sorrow, anger…resolution.

He dropped into the chair on the other side of the table. “It isn‟t a secret I wish

to keep from you.” He sucked in a breath and then released it. “My family are

devoted to their church, and it is not easy for them to accept that I am not like

them. Especially for my father and my grandfather. They will not accept me as I am

and have disowned me.”

“I‟m sorry, Stephanos.” Andrew wanted to reach out for Stephanos as he had

the night before, but he controlled his instincts. “I know it can go either way—some

families can accept it; others can‟t. But some do come around. Maybe if you give

them time?” He sounded like a man who knew what he was talking about, but he

was a fake, and he knew it. Yes, his family accepted him, but for the Larsons it

seemed more as though he was some sort of exotic trophy pulled out to show friends

at parties. And the fact that he was trying to find out something about his birth

parents? They just tied the two together now. Just another conversational piece for

them to carry around to social get-togethers. Oh, our Andrew found his birth

parents, you know. They’re Greek. And he’s gay. Did we mention that?

Yeah, like he knew so much.

“It‟s been three years,” Stephanos said. “It is as it will be. I cannot force their

acceptance. Even as I cannot force myself to be as they would wish.”

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“Is that the reason you haven‟t told your coworkers that you‟re gay? You

haven‟t told anyone there, have you?” It was a hunch.

“Perhaps. As I told you, things are different here on Crete. The laws, they are

getting better. But laws cannot change people‟s hearts and minds, nor their

traditions. For now, things are what they are.”

“You couldn‟t emigrate to the US? Things might be better for you there. You

wouldn‟t need to be constantly looking over your shoulder. At least maybe not as

much.”

“My family is here. This is my home,” Stephanos said softly.

Yet he seemed as alone as anyone Andrew had ever known. “I wish I could

help you.”

Stephanos smiled. “You have. Your friendship is very important to me. I have

shared more with you than with most anyone I know. You are like a…” His words

trailed away.

Andrew gave him a lopsided grin. “A brother maybe?”

The color of Stephanos‟s eyes deepened to the darkest shade of blue, almost

black. Andrew could get lost in that look. “Not as a brother, no.”

It was as though even the air in the room stilled. For a moment, Andrew

stopped breathing. “Like what then?”

Stephanos leaned closer; he slid a hand across the table. Andrew met him at

the center, and their fingers twined together. Here in Stephanos‟s apartment, there

was no need to worry about who might witness their connection. His fingers

tightened on Stephanos‟s. “Like what?” he asked again.

Stephanos leaned closer, and again Andrew mirrored his action until their

mouths almost touched. “Perhaps we shall find out while you are here. Ne,

Andrew?”

“Yes, I think so. I think perhaps we might.” He felt Stephanos‟s breath against

his face. He parted his lips, and in the next instant, their mouths were fastened

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together. Oh, God, he tasted so good. Just as good as he‟d tasted the night before. It

wasn‟t a deeply blistering kiss that curled his toes. It was soft and seductive, lips

brushing in tantalizing invitation. It was a promise of things to come. And all too

brief. Stephanos pulled away first and reseated himself.

“Anogia,” he said as though trying to ease the sexual tension between them.

Andrew released a long breath. “Anogia,” he echoed, then picked up his mug

and took a deep gulp of coffee in an attempt to steady himself.

“I did some more searching on the computer before you got up. It may not be as

easy to find out information on your ancestors as we would like.”

“Why is that? What did you find out?”

“Anogia has always had a turbulent history. But in 1944 the resistance

fighters kidnapped a German general. In retaliation the village was burned to the

ground and as many of the men as they could find were executed. The only building

left standing was the church. The town was rebuilt, but I don‟t know if we will find

any records of your family that might still survive. Any people who might know

something may have moved to other cities or villages.”

Andrew was disappointed. More than that, he was devastated. “Nothing?”

“I don‟t know. Anogia is one of those mountain villages difficult to reach. It

may be that we will find the church still has some baptismal or marriage records

that may prove helpful in your search. Do not give up all hope. I just wanted you to

be prepared for the worst, just in case.”

“Well,” Andrew said, “I can‟t give up hope yet. I‟ve come too far.” Perhaps it

would all be for nothing, but he still had to try. He looked at Stephanos. But then

again, even if Anogia was a dead end, it might not all be for nothing. There was still

Stephanos. And having met him could prove to be everything.

* * *

He wanted more—more than one or two kisses. For two days he‟d sported an

unrelenting erection, aroused just by Andrew‟s nearness. But Stephanos was afraid

Fires of Crete

to take it to the next step. They only had two weeks, and he was wasting time. But

if it didn‟t work out, if Andrew left, then Stephanos would be alone once again. And

right now that was something that he couldn‟t bear to think about, not as long as

Andrew was near enough for him to reach out and touch.

If he left and went to a hotel because they found the attraction was

unsustainable, it would devastate Stephanos. If friendship was all there was to be

between them, then Stephanos was willing to take whatever scraps were offered.

Just as Andrew‟s e-mails had seemed a lifeline to Stephanos, his continuing

presence in Stephanos‟s apartment was a treasure that he would not take for

granted. Even if it was only for a short time. Icarus flew toward the sun and for a

brief moment experienced a freedom no other man had ever known. Was the

experience worth the price of his life? Perhaps that was something Stephanos would

find out for himself. The flames of passion burned inside him with a fierceness that

was already consuming him. He needed Andrew more than he needed to breathe.

He was already that important to him.

Stephanos left the apartment at dawn, before Andrew was up, in order to walk

the silent streets and clear his head. He had to come to a decision; the sexual

tensions that existed between him and Andrew had reached breaking point. He

came to the steps of a Greek Orthodox Church. He often wound up here either late

at night or early in the morning, when he was particularly conflicted. Something

drew him to climb the steps and walk into this sacred space. Perhaps he would find

that elusive answer he searched for in regard to his relationship with Andrew.

He studied the Byzantine-inspired architecture, focused on the cross affixed

above the archway, and then walked inside. He inhaled the incense-scented air, the

aroma of polished wood, studied the rectangular stained-glass windows for a

moment, then sat down in the last pew and allowed the peaceful spirituality of the

atmosphere to envelop him. His father had lived by the creed of this church. Had

Stephanos wandered so very far away? He closed his eyes and bowed his head,

instinctively reciting the prayers he had memorized as a child. They were a

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comforting ritual, and slowly the tension eased. All the memories of his youth came

flooding back. Bittersweet now. He opened his eyes and stared up at the cross

mounted above the altar, waiting for an answer.

He jumped when a hand settled on his shoulder. He glanced up, was shocked

when he saw Andrew staring down at him.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered as he slid deeper into the pew.

“I heard you leave, and I decided to follow. Call it a hunch,” Andrew said

quietly.

Stephanos stared at the cross. “I don‟t know what to do,” he finally admitted

out loud. “I think I am a coward.”

Andrew reached for his hand, and Stephanos gripped it tightly. More tightly

than he probably should have.

“What do you want to do?” Andrew asked.

Andrew‟s steadying touch felt right to Stephanos. His presence was steadfast

and necessary to Stephanos‟s happiness and well-being.

“I don‟t want to push you away. But I want more than friendship. I don‟t want

to lose the camaraderie we have established and exchange it for something

less…substantial and fleeting, Andrew. Our relationship is too important to me.”

Andrew squeezed Stephanos‟s hand. “Realistically anything beyond friendship

can‟t last. I have to return to the States in less than two weeks. But I‟ll admit that I

want more even though I know it can‟t last.”

“I don‟t know what to do. It seems I‟ve waited all my life for now—for meeting

you. And now I‟m paralyzed. What if it‟s not right? We can‟t go back.”

“Everything is a risk. You could have stayed in the mountains, with your

family, and never known something of the world. Do you regret what you did?”

“There are some days that I do, yes.”

“Because you‟re alone now? But you know who you are, don‟t you? Better than

you did before? Do you really want to go back to that naïveté?”

Fires of Crete

It didn‟t take Stephanos long to consider his answer. “No. Even with being

disowned, I couldn‟t change it if I wanted to. It‟s inside me, and I can‟t alter who I

am, although some would think that would be an easy thing to do.”

“Risks are part of life. They‟re scary, but they make us feel alive. Don‟t you

think?”

“Alive,” Stephanos repeated. “Yes, but I want more. I want to be free.”

“Come home, Stephanos. I want to be free too. I want to fly. With you.”

Stephanos looked at the angled fresco on the domed ceiling. Again, he thought

of Icarus and how high he flew, how close to the sun he got. Was it worth it to feel

the fire, to soar that close to a flame so bright? Wasn‟t there always a price to be

paid? Perhaps wounds borne? Stephanos twisted around to look at Andrew. He

smiled and then stood up.

He got the answer he‟d come for. Maybe not in quite the fashion he‟d expected,

but it was a response he embraced.

The sun was just beginning to ascend in the sky as they made their way back

to Stephanos‟s apartment, walking slowly. Stephanos still gripped Andrew‟s hand,

afraid to let go.

It was as they rounded the corner of Stephanos‟s building that he pulled back

and dragged Andrew into his arms. It was at the corner of his street where he

kissed Andrew, thrusting his tongue deep into Andrew‟s mouth. It was in the

elevator that Andrew cupped Stephanos‟s face with both hands and claimed a kiss,

tongues clashing, lips fused, until the bell dinged and the elevator doors silently slid

open when it arrived at Stephanos‟s floor.

But it was inside the apartment when the fire roared out of control. Hardly

had the door slammed shut when the inferno consumed them with the hunger of

suppressed lust now freed as a wildfire racing across a drought-ridden field too

encompassing to even think of quenching before it consumed everything in its path.

And more than anything, Stephanos wanted to be engulfed by the fires of Andrew‟s

passion. Anogia and Andrew‟s search for his past would have to wait another day.

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In their own world now, sequestered from prying eyes, passion knew no

bounds. Hands and tongues and bodies fused and mated. There was unleashed

urgency to their movements, to their ravening hunger. And there would be no

stopping the firestorm that erupted with full force.

Fires of Crete

Chapter Four

They didn‟t make it to the bedroom before shirts were flying, hands moving at

the speed of light, shedding clothes in all directions. The living room was

illuminated by the rising run. This wasn‟t secretive, not quick and dirty. It was

passion and arousal in the full light of a new day. This was discovery and

acceptance in all its varied forms.

Shirtless, Andrew looked at Stephanos, pausing for just a breath as his hand

curled around Stephanos‟s belt buckle. Everything slowed as they looked into each

other‟s eyes. Carefully, the hiss of leather sliding across metal seemed loud as

Andrew slid the belt strap free of its closure. Stephanos didn‟t move, waiting, letting

Andrew take the lead.

Hands on the waistband of Stephanos‟s pants, Andrew leaned forward and

kissed Stephanos. His fingers curled around the stiff fabric and he dragged him

forward. His tongue slipped inside Stephanos‟s mouth, exploring the moist recesses.

Only then did Stephanos reach up to frame Andrew‟s face, anchoring him there. The

sound of Stephanos‟s zipper sliding downward whispered into the early morning

quiet.

To Andrew, Stephanos tasted of youth and passion, a lingering essence of

fragrant soap, a hint of religious incense and aged wood. He tasted of morning dew

and subtle night melding together. He tasted of aroused fire, burning beneath

Andrew‟s touch.

Stephanos‟s tongue probed the inside of Andrew‟s mouth, thrusting deep,

exploring Andrew‟s taste. Andrew slipped his hands inside Stephanos‟s briefs. Skin

on skin as he slid his hand around to grip Stephanos‟s firm muscled ass cheeks. He

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drew him forward, chest-to-chest, cock-to-cock, bodies hard and unyielding. They

drank of each other, mouths fastened together. Stephanos‟s hand stroked across

Andrew‟s whiskered jaw, tongues dueling.

Stephanos lowered one hand, trailed it across Andrew‟s chest, causing him to

shudder. He arrowed it down to his lover‟s waist, wiggled his fingers inside the

waistband of Andrew‟s pants. With his other hand he cupped the back of his neck.

He plunged his hand deeper inside Andrew‟s trousers to grip his ass.

Andrew‟s mouth tracked kisses along Stephanos‟s darkly shadowed jaw,

tasting the maleness of rugged flesh, tasting his beautiful Greek lover. He withdrew

his hand from Stephanos‟s ass, sucked his finger into his mouth, making it wet,

then lowered his hand once again, playing at the crack in his ass, even as Stephanos

mirrored his actions.

Penetration was simultaneous, stinging, and sweet. Even as he lodged his

finger into Stephanos‟s tight hole, Stephanos did the same to him. It was moans of

excitement that now lit up the atmosphere. Andrew‟s cock, thick with arousal, his

balls drawn up close against his body, readied for release.

Stephanos withdrew his finger as though he could tell the exact moment when

Andrew was ready to orgasm. Andrew released the breath imprisoned somewhere in

the vicinity of his throat. He groaned. He slid his finger from Stephanos‟s rectum.

Stephanos stepped back without taking his eyes off Andrew. He toed off his

sneakers, then shrugged his pants and briefs to the floor, stepping out of them.

Andrew drank in the body of a god, the beauty of an angel.

Short-cropped black curly hair, sharp angles to his face, chest solid, yet not

broad and big, but firm and chiseled. Andrew‟s gaze followed the vee of black curly

hair down, down to Stephanos‟s cock rising from the thatch of curly short hairs.

Black hair covered his thighs, muscular and defined. More beautiful than Adonis,

more mythic than the fated Icarus. The aura of dawning golden light enveloped him

and made him far too irresistible. He was the most beautiful thing Andrew had ever

seen. And it was a moment Andrew would never forget.

Fires of Crete

Andrew dropped his pants and boxers and then waited as Stephanos took his

time looking at Andrew. Those gorgeous blue eyes studied him head to toe. Andrew

saw the glimmer of heavy sexual acknowledgement when his attention settled on

Andrew‟s cock. Daylight hid nothing—not a flaw, not a strand of pale curls, not the

whiskers of a jaw yet untrimmed.

A hint of a smile lit up Stephanos‟s eyes. He kicked free of his clothing and

turned toward the bedroom. Andrew admired the breadth of his shoulders, the

strong back that tapered to a narrow waist, the sexy, self-confident strut that drew

Andrew‟s attention to the tight muscles of an ass that Andrew couldn‟t wait to fuck.

Andrew awoke from his sexual trance and followed Stephanos. The drapes in

the bedroom were still drawn closed, and it took a moment for Andrew to adjust to

the deeper shadows in the room. Close and intimate, a stark contrast from the

bright sunlight in the living room. He stopped at the doorway, watching as

Stephanos pulled condoms and lube from the drawer next to the bed. Stephanos

twisted around to look at him. That heavy aroused gaze pulled Andrew forward and

into the bedroom, across the thick rug and to Stephanos‟s side.

Without turning away Stephanos reached around and drew the already

rumpled comforter even farther back, exposing the white sheets beneath. Then he

leaned forward and possessed Andrew‟s lips, his muscular arms curled around

Andrew. Before he knew it they were prone on the bed. Stephanos pushed Andrew

farther up and more fully onto his back, spreading Andrew across the cool sheets.

He then positioned himself between Andrew‟s legs, aroused cocks sliding together

like earthy primitive twigs chafed one to the other in order to a ignite a fire.

“Grab the rail above your head,” Stephanos said. Andrew had no thought of

denying the demand and reached up to grab the smooth ebony wooden rails of the

headboard. Stephanos reached for the lube. Andrew spread his legs wider.

Stephanos dragged down one of the pillows and positioned it beneath Andrew‟s

hips.

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Andrew watched as Stephanos squirted lube into his hand, and then Andrew

shuddered as he pressed the tube to his hole and squirted more of the lube into his

rectum.

First one of Stephanos‟s fingers penetrated him. Then two. The sound of

Stephanos‟s fingers sliding through the squishy lube, pressing deeply inside him,

the sucking sound as he withdrew, then pressed inward again, almost had Andrew

coming right then and there. Stephanos withdrew his fingers. He reached for a

condom, and Andrew knew this was the moment he‟d waited for since he debarked

the plane. From that first moment when he saw Stephanos holding the sign.

Stephanos came back to him, centered his cock at Andrew‟s entrance, pressed

forward slowly. Slipping past the tight ring of muscle, he lodged inside Andrew‟s

rectum.

“Don‟t let go of the rails,” Stephanos said, even as he pushed deeper into

Andrew‟s passage, widening and stretching him, the burn of penetration driving

him higher and higher. The roll of Stephanos‟s hips like a dancer, slow and deep,

drove his rigid prick deeper and deeper into Andrew‟s channel. The rhythm, the

depth of penetration—this was a man who knew how to fuck, how to please, how to

give as much as he took. Ripples of chest muscle undulated as he fucked Andrew.

Nipples twisted into tight brown beads. Stephanos closed his eyes; his jaw

slackened; his head dropped back. He squirted more lube, and the sounds of fucking

grew more intense. The scent of sex filled Andrew‟s senses. He thrust his hips into

counter rhythm to Stephanos‟s motions. The pleasure was all-consuming as

Stephanos maintained the steady, penetrating fucking.

Sweat trickled across Andrew‟s chest, pooling at the center. He gripped the

rails of the bed tighter. Stephanos slowed the rhythm of fucking, making Andrew

feel every single inch of penetration each and every time. He began to shake with

emotion. His nails dug into the wood of the bed as Stephanos changed the rhythm.

Fires of Crete

“Look at me,” Stephanos said. His cockhead teased at Andrew‟s sphincter.

Stephanos‟s intense concentration connected Andrew to him. Once locked, he very

slowly undulated his hips and screwed his cock into Andrew‟s ass.

Everything stopped. The intense sensations sent Andrew into the

stratosphere. His breathing slowed and deepened, almost trancelike as he absorbed

every thick inch, the feeling of Stephanos‟s prick, the sounds of his lube-slick

channel hungrily sucking Stephanos‟s cock with each grinding undulation.

Stephanos‟s navy blue pupils glittered through slitted eyelids as he watched

Andrew as though knowing exactly what was going through his mind. Watching

him, waiting for just the right moment.

“Fuck!” Andrew screamed as he jerked upward.

Stephanos rammed forward. Andrew came with a powerful force he‟d never

experienced before. For one moment everything went black. And then just as he

came back into himself, he heard Stephanos‟s groan, his cock buried inside Andrew

as he climaxed.

It was long moments before Stephanos finally slid his softened prick from

inside Andrew. Andrew uncurled his hands from around the bedrails. He dropped

back onto the bed. He couldn‟t move. His limbs felt like gelatin, muscles quivering.

Stephanos dropped down beside him. Andrew turned to look at him.

“I‟ve never been fucked like that before.”

Stephanos smiled. “I‟ve never fucked like that before.” He placed a hand on

Andrew‟s sweat-soaked chest. “I‟ve never wanted to give so much of myself to a man

before.”

It was Andrew‟s turn to smile, albeit tiredly. As tired as he was, and knowing

he wasn‟t up to it, he found himself wanting to do it all over again.

* * *

It was an even more intimate experience than Stephanos had expected. The

connection with Andrew far exceeded what Stephanos had anticipated. He tried to

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focus on the newspaper, on the weather predictions for the next couple of days. But

all he could think of was Andrew and the lovemaking they‟d shared the day before.

He was already in over his head, and when it came time for Andrew to leave, it was

not going to be easy to let him go—to go back to the online relationship that had

been established between them over the last months.

He hadn‟t meant for this to happen. Hadn‟t meant to become so…involved. But

there was no going back. And he‟d known the consequences at some level before it

had started.

“Good morning,” Andrew said as he walked into the room, pulling Stephanos‟s

attention from his deep soul-searching endeavor. Stephanos glanced up from the

paper, and a tight fist gripped his heart. He remembered the feel of Andrew in his

arms, of fucking him. And later, being fucked by him. He remembered the feel of

Andrew‟s golden whiskers tracking a path down his abdomen. And the breathless

sensation of having his cock sucked so amazingly deep by Andrew. He remembered

waking in the black hours of early morning and making love yet again. Of not being

able to get enough of his lover, of not wanting morning to arrive.

He‟d then woken at five, donning his running clothes, and left the apartment,

hoping to get some clarity. Yet even after running what seemed like miles and

miles, he still couldn‟t get Andrew out of his head. Nor the scent of him off his skin.

After one night of passionate lovemaking, the man was now embedded deeply into

Stephanos‟s psyche.

Andrew grinned as he sat down. He pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge

of his nose. He reached for one of the croissants, ripped it apart, and wolfed the

smaller pieces down. He looked quizzically at Stephanos. “Are you all right?”

Stephanos blinked and shook himself out of his reverie. “Yes. Would you like

some orange juice? I picked some up when I was out this morning.”

“I thought I heard you leave early.”

“Ne, I went running.”

“Do you run every morning?” Andrew asked.

Fires of Crete

“Most mornings. Some days I go to the gym instead.”

Stephanos made to rise, but Andrew laid a hand on his arm.

“Are you all right?” Andrew repeated. “I mean…after last night?”

“Are you?” Stephanos asked.

“I‟ll admit, I hadn‟t expected…” His words trailed away.

“I know. I think it is too fast. When you leave…”

“Yeah. This complicates things.” He stood, meeting Stephanos eye to eye. The

kiss they shared was unavoidable. It was combustible. Stephanos found himself

moving backward, steered by Andrew‟s hands, pushed up against the counter even

as Andrew yanked Stephanos‟s shirt from his waistband. He bunched the shirt up,

his hands going beneath to fondle Stephanos‟s erect nipples. He grinned at

Stephanos.

“Your jaw‟s smooth this morning. You feel good. And you smell delicious.”

“Soap. That‟s all.”

Andrew inhaled deeply, then claimed Stephanos‟s mouth once again, his

tongue diving deep between Stephanos‟s lips. Stephanos couldn‟t resist this man. If

Andrew wanted to fuck right here, right now, on the kitchen floor, Stephanos was

more than ready to accommodate him. His arms came around Andrew, drawing him

closer, leaning into the kiss, trapping Andrew‟s exploring hands between them.

Finally, Andrew pulled away. “We keep this up, we‟re never getting out of your

apartment. You have no idea how much I want to fuck you again.”

Stephanos stepped to the side, took a deep breath, rearranged his shirt, and

tried to control his raging lust. “I know exactly what you mean.” He took another

deep breath to steady himself. “I think today we can try to make the drive to

Anogia. If we wait, the weather may turn, and we will never be able to get there.”

“I really did pick the wrong time of year for this trip, didn‟t I?” Andrew shook

his head. “But something told me it had to be now. I‟m not a man who normally does

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things like this on impulse. I make a plan. But with this trip, it was just something

driving me to do it now. Crazy, wasn‟t it?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. We shall see. Nevertheless, I think we should do this

today if you still want to. We wait any longer, we won‟t be able to do it at all. So far

this December the weather has been mild, but I don‟t expect it will hold much

longer.”

“I have to do it, Stephanos. You understand? I have to know, one way or the

other.”

“It‟s all right, Andrew. Greeks know exactly how important family ties are.

And how deep they go.”

Stephanos saw an expression of sympathy cross Andrew‟s face. Stephanos

turned away from the pity he saw there. He busied himself with the dishwasher for

a time before facing Andrew again.

“Mount Psiloritis is the highest mountain on Crete.” He grinned at Andrew. “It

figures that the town you must visit is in one of the most difficult areas to get to this

time of year. But we shall try.”

Andrew placed a hand on Stephanos‟s arm. “Thank you, my friend. I don‟t

know what I would have done without you.”

Something twisted inside Stephanos. A moment of wondering if that need for

Andrew to discover his roots was the total of the foundation for Andrew‟s attraction

to Stephanos. Was it the reason he allowed Stephanos to become his lover, even if

only for the short length of his visit? Did he think it would make Stephanos more

amenable to making the trip up the mountain this time of year?

Stephanos tried to fight the demons of doubt that attempted to twist this new

relationship. He wanted to be with Andrew, and for whatever the reason, Andrew

wanted to be with him. Their time together was short, and Stephanos planned to

make the best of it. Attempting to decipher what motives might lie behind their

deepening relationship served no purpose. Today was what mattered.

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Truth be told, Stephanos already felt a blessing had been laid upon his feelings

for Andrew. And that alone was something he would not question, come what may.

“Come,” he said. “We should get going.” The sooner Andrew had the answers

he‟d come to Crete looking for, the quicker Stephanos might understand Andrew‟s

true feeling for Stephanos. As always, good or bad, he wanted to know the truth. He

cared too much already not to have honesty in the relationship.

Adrianna Dane

Chapter Five

The mountain drive over the switchback roadway that would take them to the

village of Anogia was a nail-biting adventure. Narrow roads with no guardrails.

Craggy and rugged, dangerous, especially this time of year, yet exhilarating. He

prayed to God they didn‟t meet another vehicle coming from the other direction. The

small mountain villages they had passed through piqued the archeologist in

Andrew. Locked within these mountains were the ghostly remnants of ancient

Minoan civilization as well as the purported birthplace of Zeus. The most amusing

part of the trip was when they were stopped by a small herd of mountain goats

demanding the right of way and taking their time about it.

Andrew turned to study Stephanos‟s profile as he focused on the dangerous

curves in the road. Perhaps it wasn‟t strictly the rugged terrain and history of the

land that tugged at Andrew; perhaps it was the company of the younger man

behind the wheel of the car who reminded him so acutely that once this island was

ruled by the belief in gods and goddesses.

Stephanos seemed to feel the heat of Andrew‟s gaze and quickly glanced at him

and grinned before turning his attention to navigating the curvy road.

“It makes you catch your breath, ne?”

“Oh yeah,” Andrew said, his focus locked on Stephanos. “Definitely makes me

catch my breath.” In Stephanos he could see the stamp of ancient Minoan rulers.

Dusky skin, a hawklike intensity in his amazing blue eyes, a firm set to his lips.

Andrew‟s attention turned to Stephanos‟s hands, long fingers curled around the

steering wheel, expertly maneuvering the car over dangerous roads.

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They traveled higher and higher, and when Andrew looked out over the

boulder-strewn fields, he could easily believe himself spiraling back to another time.

Where resistance fighters with rifles slung across their shoulders hid in these high

craggy areas. Courageous men who fought for their freedom from the Turks, the

Venetians, the Germans. So many people who valiantly resisted and lost their lives.

Stephanos had the blood running through his veins of those men. And so did

Andrew, although he‟d never really understood what that meant before.

“I am sorry you don‟t come in the spring. Crete is beautiful at that time. Or

summer.” Stephanos‟s words brought Andrew back to the present. “We could swim

in the sea. I know some very good coves where we could be private. You would like

the water here.”

Andrew‟s mind exploded with the possibilities of that image. “You‟re making

me regret that I didn‟t wait until summer to visit. But I just wanted to take the first

opportunity. I‟ve been searching for years. If I put this visit off again, I had the

feeling I‟d never get here. I couldn‟t wait.” And then I wouldn’t have met you. But he

didn‟t say that last part out loud.

“I‟m glad you came, Andrew. It is an adventure, ne? Perhaps it would not be so

bad to be snowbound in Anogia for a few days maybe?”

Andrew dared not reach across the space between them as much as he wanted

to. Dared not cause Stephanos to lose his concentration on the road. But oh, how he

wanted to. Instead, he leaned back and stared out the window. “No, I don‟t think it

would be so bad,” he said.

It was late in the day when they finally arrived in the village, having stopped

along the way to enjoy the local color and cuisine. Too late to start asking questions,

they headed directly to the hotel. Stephanos had called ahead to reserve a room at a

quaint hotel near the square at Agios Georgios.

“Mr. Angelika, you are him, ne? We speak on the phone.” A tiny older woman

with graying hair and an animated smile rushed forward to greet them as they

entered the small tiled foyer of the hotel. Small but clean, newly painted in bright

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colors of white and sky blue, the hotel and the hotel‟s owner were very welcoming.

“Come sit,” she said, waving toward a small alcove with a ceramic blue and white-

tiled table and several black wrought-iron chairs. “I bring you some of our special

Greek coffee and some cookies. My son will take your bags up to your room. You rest

and we talk. Ne?”

Even as weary as they were after the drive, politeness would not have allowed

them to refuse the invitation. It was nice to sit on a chair that wasn‟t moving after

the long drive.

“Do you have your mother‟s picture?” Stephanos asked.

“I brought several copies, just in case.” Andrew fished one of the copies out of

his pocket and handed it to Stephanos just as the proprietress returned carrying a

tray with two china cups and saucers and a plate of delicious-looking homemade

cookies.

“Here we are,” she said as she set down the tray and then drew up another

chair and made herself comfortable. Her feet barely touched the floor. “My name is

Eleni.” She held out a hand, and first Stephanos shook hands with her, and then

Andrew did so. “Is nice to meet you both. I have not been to Heraklion in some time.

So many people now. I like the quieter life here.”

“Did you grow up in Anogia?” Andrew asked.

Eleni‟s expression clouded. “No. After the Nazis, my family—what was left of

my family—moved to Heraklion. It was too hard. But I come to one of the festivals,

and I meet a boy.” She laughed as she reminisced. “Music he played was too good. It

is how he courted me. Perhaps I fall in love with his music first, ne? Ah, well, he is

gone now, but I stay here. It‟s a good place. So what brings you to Anogia. Our

music? The mountain? Or is it to see where Zeus was born?” She waved a hand.

“Yes, I know. Many say he was born elsewhere, but I know it was here, in our cave.

You mind me, you will know it if you visit it. You cannot help but feel the presence

of the old gods in that place.”

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Andrew could have sat there and listened to Eleni all night. He found her

fascinating. His weariness from the trip up the mountain seemed to dissipate.

“We have come specifically for none of those reasons. My friend”—Stephanos

indicated Andrew—“has come all the way from the United States to find his family.

He was orphaned as an infant, and he wanted to find his relatives if there are any

still living.”

Eleni studied Andrew. “You know your family comes from Anogia?”

“I don‟t.” Stephanos slid the photograph across the table to him. “I have this

picture of her. On the back of the original, it states that it was taken in Anogia. I‟m

just trying to follow up on a lead.”

Eleni took the picture from him and studied it closely. “Hmm.” She handed it

back to him. “I wish I could help you. I did not return to Anogia until 1979. I was

not here when this picture was taken, I think.” She patted his hand. “Perhaps you

ask around tomorrow? Others may remember her.”

“Thanks, Eleni,” Andrew said. Suddenly, he was feeling tired once again. He

couldn‟t possibly have imagined it would be that easy.

Eleni stood. “Well, I will show you to your room. I hope you find everything you

are looking for in Anogia.”

Andrew and Stephanos followed Eleni up to the second floor and into a rather

spacious and altogether welcoming room that looked more like a small efficiency

apartment than a hotel room. A fire was already burning in the fireplace, and the

room appeared as welcoming as they could possibly have asked for. There were two

double beds neatly made up, and near the fireplace was a comfortable-looking

settee.

“I hope you are happy with your stay,” Eleni said. “And that you find

everything you are looking for. In the morning you may find breakfast downstairs.

Coffee, tea, croissants, pastries. Not so fancy, but filling.”

“Thank you, Eleni. You‟ve been most gracious,” Andrew said.

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Once the door closed behind Eleni, shutting out the rest of the world, Andrew

turned to Stephanos, who stood before the fireplace. “This is…more than I

expected.”

Stephanos put his bag onto the other bed, and to Andrew it seemed to make a

statement without words spoken. Andrew watched as Stephanos silently unpacked

his suitcase.

“Is something wrong?” Andrew asked.

* * *

“There‟s nothing wrong. It‟s been a long day.”

What could Stephanos say? That the ghosts of his family weighed heavily on

him in this small village that reminded him of home? He needed time to regain his

balance and come to terms with his own past. Memories always had a habit of

hitting him unexpectedly. He thought he had put it behind him. It had been years

since the confrontation. He‟d gone on with his life. But now he realized he‟d been

living in a kind of limbo since that day. Maybe living wasn‟t the right word, because

he really hadn‟t been doing more than existing in a vacuum. Walking lightly, trying

not to make waves. In essence suppressing who he was, afraid something would

break if he made the wrong move. Until he‟d met Andrew. He couldn‟t help reaching

out; he‟d been desperate for some kind of connection. And Andrew had been there.

He glanced at Andrew as he began to pull clothes out of his bag, rummaged

through for his razor. How had things gotten so screwed up? When he‟d been

attending college in the States, he hadn‟t had to hide who he was. And that had

given him the courage to confront his family when he‟d come back to Crete. What a

mess that had been. And because of it, he‟d slunk back into his shell like a kicked

puppy, almost afraid to feel anything.

But he felt something for Andrew. It was new and exciting, and it made him

feel alive in a way he hadn‟t felt in a very long time. Why was he fighting it? He was

a man grown, not a child still pinned beneath the thumb of his father and his rigid

religious beliefs. Why couldn‟t he lose that baggage? His father would never

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understand, never accept who Stephanos was. And if Stephanos kept on this way,

he‟d never be happy if he was only ever trying to find a way to gain his father‟s

respect and acceptance. It would always be like a raw, festering wound, never

allowed to heal. Yes, there would always be a scar, always a reminder, an ache of

yearning, but did he need to forever let him rule his life?

Suddenly, he swung around to face Andrew. Andrew was bent over his

suitcase, pulling out notebooks, his laptop, his cell phone. They were lined up neatly

across the sea-green-colored comforter. Gold-rimmed glasses rested in an open case

on the simple nightstand next to the bed. Clothing neatly piled in a second row.

Andrew brushed a piece of lint from a folded pair of blue jeans. It made Stephanos

smile. It felt good to have someone to share things with. It was good not to be alone.

Not to be afraid.

He walked across the room. Andrew turned a questioning eye on Stephanos.

Even though the relationship was new, Stephanos was comfortable with his lover. It

felt right—all of it. And he was an ass to waste this time when he could be

discovering whether there was more to it than simply a holiday fling. And he

wanted Andrew right this minute. Wanted him skin to skin.

He laid a hand on Andrew‟s shoulder and swung him around. Without giving

him a chance to say anything, he kissed him. He felt the surprise as Andrew

stiffened for just a moment, then relaxed into the embrace. He opened his mouth,

and Stephanos thrust his tongue deep inside, fusing their mouths together. He

wound his arms tighter around Andrew and slowly drew him back across the room

toward his bed. He dragged Andrew‟s shirt over his head and flung it aside.

Sneakers toed off. Hands tangled; belt buckles loosened; jeans and underwear were

shoved quickly to the tiled floor.

Then it was Andrew who turned the aggressor, shoving Stephanos onto the

bed. By what seemed like silent consent, no words were exchanged, no sounds

uttered beyond the harsh quick breaths of arousal.

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Stephanos yanked off his shirt and dropped it to the floor. He arched and

stifled a groan as Andrew‟s mouth fastened onto a nipple and tugged. Blindly, he

reached inside his opened bag, searching frantically, and then relaxed as he found

what he was looking for. Condoms and lube. Then he shoved the bag aside, heard

the clatter when the razor hit the tiled floor, loud in the sexually charged

atmosphere. The fire in the fireplace crackled; a log dropped. Andrew‟s hands

explored Stephanos‟s chest. He raised his head, looking into Stephanos‟s eyes.

Firelight flickered across his expression, dark and light, the glitter of flames in his

steam-filled gaze.

Andrew‟s hands fastened onto Stephanos‟s hips, controlling him, adjusting

him. Stephanos‟s stiff cock bobbed against his stomach. Andrew lifted up, kept eye

contact with Stephanos even as he cupped Stephanos‟s balls, lightly squeezing as he

forced him back upon the bed. Stephanos caught his breath as Andrew dipped his

head and enclosed Stephanos‟s prick inside his mouth, sucking him deep, even as he

stroked his fingers over Stephanos‟s heavy sac. Stephanos wasn‟t sure how much he

could take. He wanted to come. He grabbed for a condom. Andrew let Stephanos‟s

cock pop free. The reddened shaft glistened with Andrew‟s saliva. Fingers tangled

as Andrew reached for the condom. Palms flattened, the condom packet pressed

tightly between their flesh. Fingers curled and gripped.

Andrew moved upward; his cock brushed against Stephanos. He thrust his

hips. Stephanos met the action. Andrew claimed Stephanos‟s other hand, gripping

his fingers forcefully. Slowly and steadily he rocked against Stephanos. The feel of

hard flesh, the grinding of bodies, legs twining as Stephanos felt like he was lifting

toward the skies. A steady soar upward, wound tightly—tighter and tighter. His

emotions honed to a sharp edge.

This was what he wanted. This was what he‟d yearned for, for so very long. He

felt the emotion tighten his throat, felt the burn behind his eyes. He wanted to draw

this moment out, keep it, hold on to it for as long as possible. Andrew stared down

at him, watching him. His grip tightened on Stephanos‟s hands, crushing the

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condom packet until Stephanos could feel the rolled ridge against his flesh. Andrew

slid against Stephanos, muscled thighs and strong arms keeping Stephanos

stationary beneath him.

Andrew lowered his head and caught Stephanos‟s lower lip between his teeth.

Stephanos dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Andrew followed the

momentum. Stephanos focused on mingled sensations. The logs crackled and

sparked in the fireplace.

Andrew turned his attention to Stephanos‟s chest. His tongue swirled over

flesh, tasting and biting, drawing even more from Stephanos. Stephanos trembled

beneath Andrew‟s onslaught. The headiness was beyond belief. He wanted to give

Andrew whatever he wanted, anything he wanted. Nothing mattered but pleasing

his lover. Nothing existed beyond feeling Andrew‟s body fused to his own.

He wanted to tell Andrew what he was feeling and parted his lips to do so. But

Andrew somehow anticipated and pressed his lips to Stephanos‟s, halting any words

that might have escaped, that might have broken the moment. He felt the hard

crush of Andrew‟s stiff nipples grinding into his chest. Short curls that married to

his own as their cocks flirted closer, both heavy with arousal. And still Andrew

wouldn‟t release Stephanos, keeping him locked to Andrew with hands and legs, the

weight of him, bearing down on him.

Stephanos smelled a hint of Andrew‟s soap, the faintest echo of cologne, the

darker scent of lust. Mixed with the aroma of burning logs, of heat, the atmosphere

of Crete. An ancient land, earthy and immortal. All of it was here in this moment, in

Stephanos‟s mind and body, filling his lungs, engorging his cock. Taking him far

beyond the real world.

Then suddenly he was flying, breaking apart as he climaxed. He couldn‟t

breathe as he bucked beneath Andrew. Again, Andrew claimed Stephanos‟s lips,

thrust his tongue deep inside his mouth, claiming the cry that Stephanos wouldn‟t

have been able to stifle on his own. Bodies stuck together, the scent of completion

overpowering even as Stephanos soared, yet still bound to earth in Andrew‟s arms.

Adrianna Dane

Chapter Six

There was something different about this morning. Something exciting and

fresh and new. Andrew stared out the window at the rough, craggy landscape that

almost seemed like he‟d traveled back in time to an ancient land. His land, a world

that seemed to bring him alive for the first time in his life. His whole life seemed to

have been focused on bringing him to this moment, to this place. He turned his head

and looked at the man still asleep, sprawled across the wrinkled sheets. A hint of

sheet just managing to offer a veneer of modesty to Andrew‟s dusky-skinned lover.

God, he loved Stephanos‟s body. He loved the earthy scent of the man.

He walked back over to the bed and pinched a corner of the sheet, peeling it

away. He just stood there drinking in the beauty of a Michelangelo creation. He was

totally absorbed in the aura of this wonderful lover. Everything he‟d originally

thought he‟d come to Crete to search for paled in significance. His growing

attraction to Stephanos seemed to be all-consuming. He wanted to forget everything

else outside this room, forget a world even existed, and just stop time right now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the image of the small unopened packet lying

next to the bed. He reached down to pick it up. He couldn‟t help grinning as he

recalled the night before.

He stood there, the condom package pressed against the palm of his hand as in

his mind he replayed the intense encounter of the night before. Which only gave rise

to a need to repeat it. He caught his breath and almost groaned as Stephanos rolled

onto his back and stretched, just about killing Andrew as a swell of lust swamped

through him. Stephanos sighed, lips parted, his roughened jaw a texture that

Andrew wanted to stroke. His cock bobbed as though in agreement. Stephanos

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relaxed, legs spread, one leg slightly elevated, his cock sporting an early morning

erection, rising from the nest of dark springy curls. An ebony trail that tracked up

across his abdomen. Andrew dropped into a chair, his gaze riveted to the man on

the bed, even as he lifted a hand and encircled his stiff rod. An orgasm surged at

full throttle that was not going to politely wait for attention. Andrew rode his hand

up and down his ruddy shaft, stroked his thumb over the leaking slit as he

considered all the ways he wanted to fuck his lover. And all the ways he wanted to

be fucked by Stephanos. The feel of Stephanos‟s cock boring into him as he clung to

the bedrail in Stephanos‟s apartment. The feel of his flesh the night before as they

rubbed skin-to-skin.

It wasn‟t long before he was spurting into his hand. Hunched over in the chair,

he heard Stephanos‟s deep chuckle. Glancing up, he saw the man‟s eyes glittering

through half-mast lids, his hand wrapped around his erection.

“You should have woken me,” Stephanos said as he jerked his hand up and

down his prick. Andrew had no voice to answer him. His hand was wet and sticky

from his climax as he watched Stephanos with an intensity that should have burned

a hole right through the man. He just shook his head. How could he get so aroused

so quickly time and time again? Just by looking at Stephanos.

He jumped up from the chair. “We‟re never going to get out of this room if we

keep this up,” he muttered as he stalked into the small bathroom. He had just

finished washing his hair, his body slick with soap, when Stephanos stepped into

the shower.

“Why waste water?” he murmured and then kissed Andrew‟s shoulder.

Oh God, we really aren’t going to get out of this room.

“Soap me up,” Stephanos said in a deep, gravelly voice. “Make me nice and

slippery.”

It wasn‟t long before they were both wet and slippery and Andrew was leaning

against the wall, legs spread. He looked down and saw a torn condom wrapper

swirling in the water at his feet. He felt the head of Stephanos‟s prick pressed

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against the ring of tight muscle. Andrew gulped as Stephanos‟s prick lodged inside

him. Between the water raining down over him, and Stephanos‟s slow, deep thrusts,

the measure of time simply disappeared. He closed his eyes, fully immersed in the

sensations. Imagining a waterfall, warriors fucking, a land that required honed

instincts in order to survive. Too much and never enough. Absolutely amazing.

Stephanos‟s fingers bit into Andrew‟s hips as he climaxed. He leaned against

Andrew‟s back, then wrapped his arms around Andrew. Andrew couldn‟t move.

Stephanos‟s softening prick slipped from inside Andrew. He reached back and

stayed Stephanos from moving away. Suds were rinsed clean, the water cooled.

Andrew turned off the spigots. And still neither of them turned to leave.

Until Andrew‟s stomach growled. Deep-bellied laughter erupted as Stephanos

unwrapped his arms from around Andrew.

“I believe breakfast is in order.” He got out of the shower and tossed Andrew a

towel.

“Yeah, I think you‟re right.”

Once they were dressed, it was a difficult transition, moving from the

sanctuary of their room, to the main part of the hotel. Suddenly the world started

spinning once again and time moved on. He almost reached for Stephanos‟s hand as

they entered the foyer of the hotel, but then he stayed the instinct. This wasn‟t

Boston, nor was it even Heraklion. It was a small village, probably a lot like the one

Stephanos had grown up in.

“Good morning,” Eleni called gaily. “Come sit and have some breakfast. Coffee

is ready. It looks to be a beautiful day. Perhaps you will find the answers you seek

today, ne?”

Handmade pastries and Greek coffee woke them and set them up for the day.

He glanced across at Stephanos. It looked as though his thoughts had turned

inward, in deep concentration. His expression set, appearing not nearly as relaxed

as he had seemed just an hour ago back in their room.

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“Is something wrong?” Andrew asked and then realized it was the exact same

question he‟d asked Stephanos the previous night. Just before they‟d made love.

Stephanos took a sip of his coffee, and his expression changed. “Anogia

reminds me of the village where I grew up. That‟s all.”

As Andrew had surmised it did. He‟d been right about that. “I thought it

might. Does it make it harder for you?”

Stephanos shrugged. “In some ways, yes. But if I have learned anything from

these days with you, it is that I must move on, ne? It is time. They are ancient

traditions, and it is not so easy to meld the old with the new. I hadn‟t realized how

difficult, and perhaps I should have. Maybe I am just an idealist. Or maybe just

self-absorbed. Because I want something so badly, must I expect everyone to give up

their beliefs? Perhaps it is I who am wrong to expect so much change from others in

order to make my life easier.”

Andrew‟s heart broke for Stephanos. He wanted to hug Stephanos, to let him

know he wasn‟t alone. Nor was he wrong to want his family to love him just for who

he was. Would Andrew‟s life have been any different if he had grown up with people

of his blood rather than a very cosmopolitan family in Boston? His life could have

been very different. He thought carefully before he answered Stephanos.

“I don‟t believe it‟s wrong to be yourself. Change doesn‟t always come easy, but

you aren‟t wrong to want to be who you are. Would you have been happy to keep the

fact you‟re gay secret from your family? Never able to share all of who you are with

them. Always afraid of making one wrong step and they‟d discover your secret?

Would that have been better?”

It was a long time before Stephanos responded. He looked beyond Andrew, up

toward the clear, brilliantly blue sky. “Sometimes I don‟t know. Being here, with

you, I don‟t know anymore. Is it selfish to want to simply live as I am? Does God

really not want to accept us?” He shook his head and stared down at the table.

“Do you believe that, Stephanos? Or do you just think you have to believe that

because man‟s religion tries to force that belief?”

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“That church where you found me the other night. I go there a lot. I think I

talk to God one-on-one, you know? And I don‟t feel as though he‟s cast me out

because I‟m gay.” He looked at Andrew and smiled. And Andrew saw some of the

light in Stephanos‟s eyes return. “And he guided you to me, didn‟t he?” He

straightened his shoulders. “Enough self-pitying. Today, we see what we can find

about your family, ne? Perhaps this is a day your questions will be answered.”

Philosophical questions were a bitch. There were never straightforward

answers, not really. It all ended up being supposition. They each picked up their

empty plates and headed toward the kitchen.

“Ah, thank you, my friends. Very kind of you to do this,” Eleni said as she met

them near the center of the foyer. “I will take them. You enjoy your day, and when

you return, you tell Eleni all about it. I shall ask around today about your family.

Perhaps somehow we will have some revelation, yes.”

As they stepped out onto the street, Andrew was surprised when Stephanos

took his hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed the knuckles. “Thank you, Andrew.”

“I haven‟t done anything.”

“You are teaching me to spread my wings. It‟s exhilarating and scary. But you

give me courage to try.”

Andrew tightened his fingers around Stephanos‟s hand. How was he going to

leave this man when it came time for him to return to Boston? He hadn‟t known

what he would find when he came to Crete, but he certainly hadn‟t expected it to be

love. Was this love? And if so, how the hell were they ever going to have a chance at

making this relationship work?

Stephanos released Andrew‟s hand and grinned. “We are fortunate men, my

friend. The gods have given us a beautiful winter day. Let‟s see what Anogia has to

tell us.”

* * *

Fires of Crete

Stephanos spent the day trying to help Andrew find the answers he‟d come to

Crete to discover. Anogia was not that large a community. They made a circle of the

village on foot, dipping into local shops, several of the shops that dealt with local

crafters. They mingled in the Agios Georgios square and even stopped by the folk

art museum and several art studios. Mid-afternoon found them in one of the

tavernas. Adjusting to the dim interior, they found a table, and Stephanos ordered

two glasses of ouzo and a plate of appetizers that included octopus, sardines, clams,

and zucchini.

Several older men dressed in the traditional black shirts were seated at a far

table, a bottle of ouzo at the center.

“I‟m sorry we have not been able to discover more about your family, Andrew.

Perhaps tomorrow,” Stephanos said. He could feel Andrew‟s disappointment.

Andrew shrugged, then sipped from the glass of liquor. “No matter what, this

trip has been important,” he said. Stephanos saw the look in his eyes and

understood the underlying meaning. Loud laughter filled the taverna, and

Stephanos looked up to see one of the men had produced a lyra. It was a pear-

shaped instrument, carved from aged wood, resembling one he owned. Stephanos

hadn‟t played the instrument in a very long time. When he‟d left for university his

grandfather had given it to him. Playing it reminded him too much of his youth and

his family.

But suddenly he reconsidered, and an urge to hold a lyra in his hands again

claimed him. There was also the possibility that the villagers might not speak so

freely with outsiders, but perhaps there was a way. He stood. “Excuse me one

moment. Perhaps there may be a way to find out more.”

“Whatever you say,” Andrew said.

Andrew‟s Greek was basic at best, and here in Anogia, the dialect was

different, making it even harder to interpret. But Stephanos was able to understand

it and to some extent speak it. He walked up to the man who was plucking at the

lyra.

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“May I?” he asked in Greek.

The man looked surprised at first, but then nodded and handed over the

instrument and bow. Stephanos was surprised at how good it felt to hold a lyra once

again. It was familiar, and soon he was immersed into the music of an old and

recognized tune, his instincts guiding him. It reminded him of the good things he

had known as a child. Of his sisters, of his grandparents, of those who had come

before. He knew several famous Crete musicians had come from Anogia. He finished

the song, handed the instrument back to the man, and thanked him for letting him

play. Several of the men had begun to exchange Cretan verse in the form of

mantinades, verses formulated in two lines each containing fifteen syllables. His

father had always been very good and very quick with the verse. When he and

Stephanos‟s grandfather would get going, the whole family would often be

mesmerized as they traded lines back and forth.

The elder gentleman invited Stephanos to join them. But Stephanos shook his

head and indicated he was with a friend. But when the man invited Andrew as well,

Stephanos decided it might be a good idea and motioned for Andrew to join them.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening were spent exchanging

mantinades with the elders, glasses of ouzo, and subtle questions that might lead to

some discovery for Andrew. Andrew passed the photograph around and showed

them the medallion.

It was earthy and inebriating and also enjoyable. A type of enjoyment

Stephanos had long forgotten. It was only when the taverna eventually closed its

doors that Andrew and Stephanos finally wove their way back to their hotel.

“I‟ll pay f‟ this t‟morrow,” Andrew slurred.

“Not much of a drinker, are you?”

“Ouzo isn‟t normal. Think it‟s worse than sake.”

Stephanos laughed. “It was good, wasn‟t it?”

“D‟ffrent. Liked it,” Andrew said. Then stumbled. Stephanos caught and

steadied him. “Going t‟ be so sorry in th‟ mornin‟.”

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Stephanos had been raised on ouzo, so he wasn‟t as bothered by the drink.

“You‟ll be fine, Andrew. In the morning you may think you‟re going to die, but you

won‟t. I won‟t let you.”

“Thas‟ comforting,” Andrew said. They stopped in front of the hotel. And for

one moment Andrew seemed clear-headed. “Thanks, Stephanos. You an‟ me.” He

cupped Stephanos‟s face. He leaned forward and whispered in Stephanos‟s ear. “I

liked those verses. Whad‟ you call ‟em?”

“Mantinades.” Stephanos shook his head. Andrew would probably recall

tomorrow, when his brain wasn‟t befuddled by liquor, that he knew exactly what

they were called.

“Yeah. Them. How about this?” His lips touched Stephanos‟s ear.

“Your cock long an‟ thick, driving deep, fillin‟ m‟ hole completely. Stretches me

wide, pain ‟n pleasure collide, as I take as much as you can fuckn‟ give me.” He

pulled back and gave Stephanos a lecherous grin.

Stephanos chuckled. “Have you been thinking that up all evening?”

“You betcha,” Andrew said, then waggled his eyebrows.

Stephanos guided Andrew into the hotel. “I‟m going to remind you of it when

you‟re sober. Tonight I think you‟d be lucky if you had a chance at even getting it

up, let alone appreciating it if I did fuck you tonight.”

Andrew stumbled again. “Maybe you‟re right. Think bed might be good right

now.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Andrew was going to be so sorry he drank so much. But maybe some of their

questions tonight might lead to some important revelations tomorrow.

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Chapter Seven

Andrew thought that perhaps dying would be much preferable to what he felt

the next morning. He sat hunched across from Stephanos while the man dug into

his coffee and meat pastries the next morning, as Andrew tried to keep his head and

his stomach firmly fixed in their appropriate venues.

“How could you let me drink so much last night?” Andrew muttered.

Stephanos laughed, then gulped down more of his coffee. “It was the heat of

the moment perhaps. But you were having fun, yes?”

“As far as I can remember. No one took unfair advantage of me, I assume.”

“I acted as your protector. No one dared.”

“They didn‟t want to take on a jealous lover who has the body of a Greek god

perhaps.” Even through the weight of the miserable hangover, a quick burst of lust

couldn‟t help breaking through.

“Perhaps. But then again, in your inebriated state, perhaps you‟re imagining

things.”

“You mean I wasn‟t accompanied home by one of the gods? And I was so

certain.”

“Do you recall the little mantinada you composed for me last night?”

“Verse? Me? I don‟t do verse. Boring research papers are more my line.”

“I shall have to remind you at an opportunity more appropriate than this.”

“I really did? Oh God, did I stand up in the middle of the taverna and… Oh

shit!”

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Stephanos got to laughing so hard he almost fell off his chair. “That would

have been something indeed. No, you did not do that. Even better.”

Andrew held up a hand. “No, don‟t tell me. I don‟t think I want to be

reminded.”

“When the time is right,” Stephanos responded mysteriously.

“Mr. Andrew, you have guests,” Eleni said breathlessly as she hurried across

the tiled floor.

“Guests?” Of all days. He felt like a limp overused washrag ready for the trash

receptacle just at the moment. Certainly not up to receiving guests.

“I think she is maybe long-lost relative you seek? I show her in? Is okay? Or do

I tell her to come back later?”

“No, no.” He pulled himself together and carefully stood. Stephanos also got

up, but with an ease that made Andrew envious. “We‟ll follow you.” They crossed

the foyer and turned a corner. At the bottom of the staircase leading up to the rooms

on the second floor stood an older woman dressed in black, with white hair done up

in a topknot. A younger woman accompanied her who was dressed in stylish jeans

and a T-shirt. The way the clothing molded to her frame spoke designer. Which

surprised Andrew.

As Andrew, Stephanos, and Eleni came to a stop, Andrew‟s apparent guests

turned to greet them. It was Andrew the older woman‟s attention went to as she

studied him closely. She pointed at Andrew‟s medallion. Then she said something in

Greek to the younger woman. It was the young woman who stepped forward to

shake Andrew‟s hand.

“Mr. Larson? My name is Marguerite Nikolai. This is my grandmother, Zora

Grannopola. She has heard that you inquire about a woman who might be your

mother. A friend described a medallion you have that was hers. Is that correct?”

“Yes. And please call me Andrew.”

“It is possible that we may be related. Is there somewhere we might talk?”

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“Oh, come, come,” Eleni said. “I bring refreshments. You must consider my

home yours as well.” Eleni smiled at Zora and said something to her in Greek. Then

she turned back to Andrew. “Zora and I have known one another for long time. You

come back inside, and I make fresh coffee. We bring more chairs, and you be

comfortable?”

It was probably the best idea. It wouldn‟t be necessary to make Zora climb the

stairs that way, and they could enjoy some of the amazing view visible from the

panoramic windows on the first floor as well.

Andrew noted that Stephanos seated himself in the far corner, allowing Zora

and Marguerite closer access to Andrew.

“If you need me to interpret, I‟m right here,” he said even as he distanced

himself from the trio. Eleni, as promised, brought fresh coffee and delicious-looking

fruit-filled cookies.

Zora spoke in Greek, and Marguerite translated. “The medallion. She would

like to know more about it.”

“I‟ve had it since I was born,” he said as he fingered the medallion. Then

something made him remove it, and he handed it across to Zora. He watched as the

older woman peered at it closely. She nodded, then returned it to Andrew. Andrew

then pulled the picture of his mother from his pocket and showed it to Zora. Zora

gazed at the black-and-white photograph for a long time. Then she looked at

Andrew with tears in her eyes. She pressed a hand to her heart as she said

something in Greek. Words tumbled one over the other.

“She says it is her older half sister,” Marguerite said. “She has not seen or

heard from her since that photo was taken.” There was a pause as she listened to

what Zora was saying. “Celinda was a newborn when the Nazis invaded Greece.

Your grandmother and grandfather fought for the resistance. When the village was

razed, your grandfather was one of the men rounded up and killed along with many

others. Because of the danger, Celinda was left with a friend when things became

too dangerous. But they were difficult times, and Celinda was somehow lost in the

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aftermath. It was many years before the family found out what had happened to

her.”

“And what had happened?” Andrew asked, eager to learn the truth about his

mother. He tried to wait patiently as Zora related the rest of the tale. Finally

Marguerite turned back to Andrew.

“She says Celinda was apparently adopted by a US soldier and his wife and

taken to America. She also came back here with them for a visit when she was

sixteen, looking for her past. Her adopted family were good people. Zora is younger

than Celinda, and once they reconnected, kept in contact for a time. And then the

letters stopped. Zora never knew what happened to her. She inquired, but the

family who had adopted her died in a car accident, and Celinda just seemed to

disappear. She is glad Celinda‟s child has found his way back to his roots just as

Celinda did.”

All of it was almost more than Andrew could absorb. Finally, he had the

answers he‟d come here to find.

“Zora says you and your friend will come to dinner on Sunday. You will meet

more of your family. There are pictures and stories to share. Yes? You will come?”

“Oh, yes. I sure will.” He glanced at Stephanos. “You‟ll come too, won‟t you?”

Conflicting expressions crossed Stephanos‟s face, but finally he agreed. “Of

course, Andrew. If you like.”

“Definitely,” Andrew said. He couldn‟t believe it. At the very least he had a

great-aunt, a cousin, it seemed, and more relatives who were tied to him by blood.

And then there was Stephanos. When he got back to the room, he‟d try to call his

adopted mother and tell her the news. She deserved at least that consideration.

Coming here had been everything he‟d hoped and more.

* * *

“You only have a few more days left,” Stephanos said as he eased his cock into

Andrew‟s tight passage. Andrew groaned. He leaned up to kiss Stephanos. He

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wound his legs around Stephanos‟s hips, opening more completely to him. All too

soon, Stephanos would lose Andrew when he returned home. The thought of it was

killing him.

“I don‟t want to talk about it right now,” Andrew said. “I just want to be with

you.”

Andrew‟s drugging kisses and the tight wrap of his rectum squeezing closely

around Stephanos‟s cock soon obliterated any other thoughts but of the here and

now and of having Andrew in his arms. He surged forward, burying his cock inside

Andrew‟s passage, trying to flood his senses with everything that was Andrew. He

feathered kisses along his jaw, nipped at his chin, consuming the man as completely

as he possibly could, knowing it would probably have to last him a lifetime.

Andrew stroked Stephanos‟s face. He curled the fingers of a hand around the

back of Stephanos‟s neck; his fingers dug into Stephanos‟s flesh. Stephanos

shuddered as he came.

“Never enough,” Andrew said as Stephanos withdrew. “It can‟t end here. I

want so much more.”

Stephanos dropped down beside Andrew. He leaned over and snagged a nipple

between his teeth. Caught the taste of a salty droplet of sweat with his tongue.

Stephanos had always been an idealist, but in this he knew if he tried to hold on to

the fantasy of a future with Andrew, it would eventually destroy him. Just as the

hope that his family would understand had almost done. He‟d spent years alone,

trying to find his place yet afraid to search for it. Waiting for his family to take him

back. Existing in limbo. But being with Andrew made him realize he wanted more.

He deserved more.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He could feel Andrew

lying next to him, and he was going to miss that presence each and every night as

he lay in his lonely bed back in Heraklion.

“I may be able to take some holiday time this summer,” he found himself

saying. Such a fool to drag this out, but he couldn‟t help himself.

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“You‟ll come to America?” Andrew asked, turning onto his side to look at

Stephanos.

“If that‟s what you want. But it won‟t solve anything, will it? Just another few

days together and then parted again by thousands of miles. There‟s no future for

us.”

“There could be. There has to be a way. We‟ll sort it out.”

“Would you move here?” Stephanos asked. “Would you give up everything to

move here to Crete? To be with me?”

There was a long silence and no ready answer to his question. Andrew‟s lack of

response was not all that unexpected.

“Ah, so you thought I should be the one to give up my career to live in America

with you.”

“Would that be so bad? Essentially, you‟re alone here. It doesn‟t have to be that

way. I can make you happy.”

It was Andrew living in a fool‟s paradise. Nothing was that simple. It never

was.

“And now that you‟ve found your family?”

“I have a family in the States too. They raised me. I owe something to them.

I‟m up for tenure at the university soon. Tenure isn‟t that easy to get. I can‟t just

walk away from all that.”

Of course he couldn‟t. Yet could Stephanos walk away from his roots? Could he

make a place for himself in America? Was that what he wanted? He‟d never

envisioned that kind of future for himself. But then he hadn‟t expected to be

disowned by his family. There was so much to think about. So much to consider.

And there was always the possibility that even if he wanted to go to the US, he

wouldn‟t be able to get a work visa.

“Six months,” Andrew said. “Before I‟ll see you again.” He crawled up over

Stephanos. He leaned forward and kissed him. Stephanos wrapped his arms around

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Andrew and pulled him down on top of him. God, yes, he was going to miss this

man. Fourteen days of intimacy, of realizing he wanted this man forever. Legs

tangled as Andrew dropped back down on the bed and pulled Stephanos toward

him. “I‟m not letting you go. I‟m not going to make it that easy to say good-bye.”

“I don‟t want you to make it easy,” Stephanos said. “I just don‟t know how we

can make this happen.”

“If we want it enough, we‟ll find a way.”

He had wanted his family to accept him, but that had never happened.

Sometimes wanting something badly enough didn‟t make it happen.

Stephanos pulled Andrew closer. For now, they had to make every moment

count. Each touch would become a memory, each kiss bonding them closer.

Stephanos simply couldn‟t bear the thought of parting from Andrew. They had to

find a way.

“Kiss me again.” He just wanted to get lost in Andrew‟s arms and forget that

when morning came, he would again be left alone. Anonymous in a city filled with

people. Yet without his lover it would be as good as being on a mountaintop far

removed from civilization.

Fires of Crete

Chapter Eight

Andrew was wound tight. Each mile that brought him closer to Heraklion and

the airport just twisted the knot inside his stomach tighter and tighter. It was

almost more than he could stand. His emotions were more turbulent than they‟d

ever been before. He had always been a deliberate man. Setting goals, carefully

considering alternatives, never veering from the path he‟d set for himself. But

meeting Stephanos changed everything. Nothing was as clear-cut and simple as it

should be. He had a plan. Everything in his career, even down to his family, had

gone the way it should. Except for falling in love with Stephanos. He could only

hope that once Stephanos came to Boston, he would see that was where Andrew

belonged and also Stephanos. They would develop a plan, just as Andrew did with

everything else in his life, and then they would put it into action. They would be

together.

“Pull over,” Andrew said.

“What? We‟re almost there,” Stephanos said. “You don‟t want to miss your

flight.”

“Fuck the plane. Pull over. Now.” Andrew heard the urgency in his voice, knew

it was the panic of impending separation. His fear that the thousands of miles that

were about to separate them was more a life-threatening situation than he could

stand.

As soon as Stephanos pulled the car off the road, Andrew whipped off his seat

belt. He turned to Stephanos, panic and fear overwhelming him. “I love you,” he

said to Stephanos. Then bolted across the seat and fused his mouth to Stephanos‟s,

pouring out all his fears and his love into his startled lover. He pulled back and

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stared into Stephanos‟s eyes. “I love you,” he said softly. “Don‟t forget me when I‟m

gone.”

Stephanos‟s expression softened, and he kissed Andrew.

“Don‟t be a realist about this. Don‟t focus on the reasons we can‟t do this.

Think about the reasons why we can. Why we have to.”

Stephanos nodded. “All right. Yes. I shall consider only the reasons why we

must. There may be something, but I don‟t want to speak of it yet. I don‟t know.”

“So you‟ll come to the States? You‟ll find a way?”

“We‟ll make it work, Andrew. Somehow. If you‟re sure you want this as much

as I do.”

“Do you love me?” Andrew asked. He hadn‟t said it when Andrew had. Perhaps

he didn‟t. Perhaps it was just that intense Greek passion that would diminish once

they were apart. Maybe he just wanted to calm Andrew until his departure. “Is

there someone else?” He‟d never even thought to ask.

“Now‟s a hell of a time to ask me, lover,” Stephanos said, but there was a hint

of laughter in his voice. “There‟s no one but you. And there won‟t be.”

“Don‟t make promises you can‟t keep,” Andrew said. “I don‟t expect…”

“Liar,” Stephanos said and then kissed him. “I love you too. Is that what you

want to hear? It‟s true. I think I probably started falling in love with you even

before your plane touched the ground. When I saw you, there was no hope of going

back and undoing what we‟d already started to build between us.”

“Yeah, I know.” Andrew had to acknowledge to himself that he‟d felt the same

as well. He‟d been drawn to Stephanos right from the beginning.

Stephanos drew back. “Your plane.”

“Yeah, you‟re right. I can‟t put it off. I wish you could come with me right now.”

“Me too. I never expected it to be so…intense.”

“The sex?”

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“All of it. Not just the sex. You. All of you. Every bit of you.” Stephanos started

the car and pulled back out onto the highway.

Once they reached the airport, everything moved far too quickly. It was too

hard to say good-bye. Hands clasped tightly. A whispered “I love you,” and then

Andrew strode toward security, terrified that if he looked back, he wouldn‟t be able

to get on the plane. So he just kept moving. The taste of Stephanos was still on his

lips, the feel of him held close. He forced himself not to think about what came next

or how long the span would be before he saw Stephanos again. After all, there was

still the phone, e-mail, video chats. But it wasn‟t touching, not like it had been over

these last fourteen days. And that was something he wanted more than anything.

And if there was something he could do about it, to accelerate that happening, he

would be damned certain to do whatever it was going to take.

* * *

The loneliness was worse than Stephanos thought it would be. But then he

hadn‟t been in love before. The hours and days dragged by. Nothing seemed to help.

He‟d set things in motion at work. It wasn‟t an easy step to take, but for him, worth

the risk of failure. There was a work exchange program in place. An arrangement

with a company in Boston. If Stephanos was accepted into the program, he would be

able to go to Boston for a year on a work visa. It was enough time for him and

Andrew to discover whether the love they shared was a strong enough foundation to

build something lasting. Stephanos now waited outside of the director of human

resources‟ office for his meeting. All the paperwork was completed, and now it would

just take time for him to be approved for the program.

He‟d worked hard, dedicated himself to succeed in his position as a top

programmer. But what was a profession without the man he loved at his side?

Somehow his success felt empty if he had no one to share it with. He‟d thought long

and hard about this step. Considered that the passion that had exploded between

him and Andrew perhaps was just passing—just a holiday affair. But it had been

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more than a month, and nothing had changed. He missed Andrew more than ever.

It was time to make things happen.

“Mr. Angelika? Mr. Cambridge will see you now.” Stephanos‟s hand tightened

on the handle of his briefcase. He rose to his feet, thanked the receptionist, and then

walked down the hallway. A chance at his future happiness rested in the hands of

the man he was about to meet.

Four weeks passed as Stephanos waited to hear if his request would be

approved. Four weeks that he existed in limbo, where time passed slowly. He

refused to focus on the possibility of failure. He refused to consider that he might be

turned down.

But he wasn‟t idle. In making the decision to go to the States to be with his

lover, he made other choices as well. He would no longer remain in the shadows; he

would no longer turn down invitations fearful of what people might say. It was not

an easy decision, nor one he took lightly. But he knew that in order to have a

healthy relationship with Andrew, he must publicly accept who he was. He had to

be comfortable within his own skin. If he was denied the transfer because he came

out as being gay, it would mean a delay in his plans to be with Andrew, but it

wouldn‟t mean the end of any possibility to be with him. It would simply mean he

must take another route. And he was willing to take the chance if it came to that.

He dreamed of his lover every night. His dreams were vivid and erotic, and he

more often than not awoke to the undeniable wetness of his climax drenching his

hand and staining the sheets. It couldn‟t be helped. And the longer the separation,

the more intense were his dreams. The waiting became unbearable.

Then finally, four weeks after his meeting with the director, an envelope

appeared on his desk. He knew what was inside, yet he was afraid to open it.

“Well?” His coworker, Ari, stood in the doorway, his eyes bright with curiosity.

It was only recently, attending a party of another coworker, that Ari and Stephanos

had become friends. And Stephanos had learned that Ari was also gay. Ari knew

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about Andrew and about the transfer. The only way Stephanos had been able to

deal with some of the tension had been to confide in someone who could understand.

“I‟m afraid to open it,” Stephanos admitted. “What if they‟ve denied my

request?”

“Remember, it‟s not the end of the world,” Ari said. No, but it would mean he‟d

have to wait even longer, and the waiting had already stretched his nerves to the

breaking point. “But I think we‟ll be out celebrating tonight. Something tells me the

transfer has been approved.”

Stephanos quirked an eyebrow. “And you would know this how?”

Ari glanced down the hallway and then batted his eyelashes at Stephanos.

“Oh, maybe I have a connection or two in HR who I maybe asked to keep an eye on

things for us.”

“You‟re a terrible flirt, Ari.”

“Oh, I admit it, I‟m a whore. And if you weren‟t already taken, I‟d be on my

knees ready to worship that gorgeous body of yours.”

“You know nothing about my body.”

Ari stepped farther into Stephanos‟s office. “Well, honey,” he whispered, “a boy

can dream, can‟t he? Now open that damned envelope.”

Stephanos slit the flap and pulled out the papers. He released a long sigh. He

looked up at Ari and grinned. “So who‟s partying with me tonight?”

“Yesss! I knew it,” Ari said as he gave Stephanos a high five. “I‟ll make some

calls. I can put a party together so fast it‟ll make your head spin. God, I love an

excuse to plan a party. See you later.”

Stephanos stared down at the letter. He couldn‟t believe he‟d done it. This was

a huge step for him. He glanced up at the clock. There was a ten-hour time

difference between here and Boston. He so wanted to hear Andrew‟s voice when he

told him, but he was likely in the middle of a lecture right now. He didn‟t want to do

it by e-mail either. That meant it would have to wait.

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It was promptly at seven the next morning that Stephanos picked up his phone

and dialed Andrew‟s number. He would probably just be getting home from the

university.

“Stephanos?”

“Andrew. It came through. I‟m coming to Boston.” It felt so good to say the

words out loud. But it wouldn‟t be until he stepped off the plane and into Andrew‟s

arms that he would truly begin to feel it was real.

“Thank God! When? I want to know everything.”

Stephanos grinned. It was going to be all right. He had heard it in Andrew‟s

voice. No hesitation whatsoever. Total relief and joy in the tone. That was all

Stephanos needed. Another four weeks would see Stephanos stepping off that plane

in Boston and directly into his future with the love of his life.

Fires of Crete

Chapter Nine

This time it was Andrew holding up the sign—standing at the bustling Logan

International Airport with the excitement of a child on Christmas. Both he and

Stephanos had waited a long time for this to happen, and Andrew couldn‟t believe

he was finally arriving. He‟d arranged a welcoming party to take place at the

weekend, hopefully to give Stephanos enough time to recover from the flight and to

deal with jet lag. Andrew recalled his own struggle with exhaustion on his visit to

Crete.

Several boxes containing Stephanos‟s personal items had arrived earlier and

were stowed in one of the rooms at Andrew‟s house. He and Stephanos had never

talked about where Andrew lived. It was likely to come as a bit of a shock to

Stephanos. Hopefully a pleasant one.

And then Andrew saw him. His fingers tightened around the sign. He

frantically waved an arm to get Stephanos‟s attention. Then he saw Stephanos grin

as he recognized Andrew, and he hurried his steps.

Andrew dropped the sign; Stephanos dropped his duffel bag, and the men

embraced. “Thank God,” Andrew said. “I‟ve missed you. I knew I would, but I didn‟t

think it would be as bad as it has been. Let‟s get out of here.”

At least it wasn‟t raining, so traffic only moved through its normal snail‟s pace

rather than slowed to almost a dead stop. It eased up as they moved over the

highway and into the suburbs surrounding Boston. Andrew pulled into the

driveway of the quaint Victorian on a quiet side street. He waited for Stephanos to

say something.

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“You rent an apartment in this house?” Stephanos asked in a low tone as he

studied the house.

“No. Actually, I own the whole house.”

Stephanos was quiet for a long time as he looked at the house, then down the

street, then back to the house. He never looked at Andrew. “You never told me that

you were…well off.”

“I‟m not so much as my family is. At least my adopted family. My adopted

grandfather owned this house. When I got the position at the university, I rented a

wing of it, as it‟s within walking distance of where I work. When he passed on, he

left the house to me along with a trust for its maintenance. I know it‟s awfully big

for just one person, isn‟t it? But it suits me. And now I can share it with you.”

“It is a beautiful house, Andrew. But I wish you‟d told me that you were

wealthy.”

Andrew sighed with impatience. “I‟m not rich, if that‟s what you mean. I just

told you, I inherited the house. And the money to keep it up. But I‟m just a

professor, and untenured at that.”

“What did your grandfather do for a living?”

“He was an archeologist. He took part in some very worthwhile expeditions to

Egypt, particularly when he was a young man. I remember listening to his stories

when I was a boy. I guess that‟s why I took such an interest in history. My

grandmother always seemed to be right there by his side, just as excited about a

find as he was. Come on. Let‟s go inside.” Andrew opened the door and got out. He

then pulled the back door open and grabbed Stephanos‟s larger bag.

What he wanted more than anything was to show Stephanos the bedroom, and

the large-framed antique bed in particular. Stephanos followed Andrew silently up

the front steps and into the house. Stephanos dropped his bag next to the door and

stared around at the high-ceiling, polished oak-floored foyer.

“This is all yours?”

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“Yes. It came with the house.” Stephanos‟s reaction to the house was beginning

to irritate Andrew. He hadn‟t expected it to be such a big deal.

“Perhaps you were more fortunate than you think to have been adopted by

such a family. Perhaps it was your destiny,” Stephanos said. “You could have

afforded to hire an investigator to find your family. Why didn‟t you?”

Andrew rounded on Stephanos. “All right. I should have told you about the

house. I don‟t see why it‟s such a big deal, but I guess I should have. It was my

family, Stephanos. I take a personal interest in that. I‟m a history buff. I wanted to

discover it all for myself. Can‟t you understand that? You‟re making too much of

this. I guess I thought—I don‟t know what I thought.” God, what was he going to

say about the party he had planned for the weekend?

“I am wrong, Andrew. I overreact. Perhaps it is the jetlag or just that I have

wanted to see you so badly. Too much excitement. My apartment is so small. I am a

simple man, perhaps too simple.”

“Stop it. You‟re perfect—for me. Come on. I want to show you the most

important room.” He waggled his eyebrows. “The bedroom.” Andrew started toward

the staircase. Stephanos stopped him. Andrew turned. Stephanos kissed him. It was

a deep and hungry kiss, meant to curl Andrew‟s toes. Andrew gripped his nape,

keeping him from pulling away. Andrew stared into those deep, bottomless eyes.

God, he remembered those eyes, remembered falling into them. Free falling, never

ending.

“I am glad to be here, Andrew. I have missed you.”

“Me too. God, I can‟t wait to get those clothes off you. I want to refresh my

memory. Wouldn‟t my grandfather be rolling over in his grave if he knew exactly

what form my favorite exploration was?” He couldn‟t help grinning.

The bedroom was huge, and the bed large enough not be dwarfed by the size of

the room. A showpiece. Andrew saw Stephanos glance off to the side—to the statue

in the corner on the opposite side of the room. He walked over to it.

“Icarus?”

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“Yes.” He yanked Stephanos‟s shirt up over his head. He kissed his bare

shoulder. Stephanos stroked the wing on the white marble sculpture. “Did I ever

tell you how much you remind me of him?” Andrew dropped to his knees. He

reached around to under Stephanos‟s jeans, then slid them down over his ass,

letting them pool at his ankles. He nipped at Stephanos‟s ass cheek. Spreading his

fingers across the firm muscular globes, he revealed the crease and flicked his

tongue over Stephanos‟s anus. Stephanos shuddered.

“Shower first?” Andrew asked. He started low and slid his tongue slowly along

the slope of Stephanos‟s spine. He slid his hands around and spread them flat

across Stephanos‟s abdomen. “Well?”

“You choose,” Stephanos said. Andrew curled his fingers around Stephanos‟s

semihard prick.

“A shower, I think. But I don‟t think this is like any shower you‟ve had before.”

“Oh God. More surprises?” Stephanos murmured as he leaned back against

Andrew.

Andrew chuckled. “More surprises.” He turned Stephanos to face him. “You‟re

the first, you know.”

“The first?”

“Yeah. The first man I‟ve ever brought up here. Oh, I‟ve brought dates home

before, but never to my bedroom.” He cupped Stephanos‟s roughened jaw. “I‟ve

never loved anyone like I love you.”

A flicker of pleasure crossed Stephanos‟s expression. Just the hint of a smile on

his lips. “Let‟s check out this bathroom of yours.”

“Nineteenth century, updated. Really. I know you‟ll like it.”

Stephanos toed off his loafers; he stepped out of his jeans and underwear.

Andrew took his hand and led the way.

* * *

Fires of Crete

To say that Stephanos was overwhelmed might be considered an

understatement. But most assuredly his mind was not on culture shock when he

entered the bathroom with Andrew. All that was in his mind were the months

they‟d been separated by thousands of miles of land and water. Even as tired as he

was from the months of planning and then the long trip from Heraklion, he was now

apparently getting a second wind, because he couldn‟t wait to strip Andrew bare.

A glance around the huge room left Stephanos with the impression of

mahogany wood and pristine white porcelain painted tiles, exposed brass fittings

and pipes, high ceiling. Stephanos‟s eyes widened when he tipped his head back to

study the Michelangelo-style erotic image that extended to every corner of the

ceiling about his head.

“I‟ve made my own alterations based on nineteenth-century plumbing and

design,” Andrew said. “So it‟s not quite historically accurate. But I think you‟ll enjoy

the experience. And finally, that sink will be used to maximum advantage. I‟d

considered replacing it, but now I‟m glad I didn‟t.” Andrew was apparently referring

to the double-console marble sink that was mounted on one side of the room

opposite from the brass claw-footed tub.

Andrew shed his clothes quickly and then moved to the area at the back of the

rectangular room. Stephanos assumed by the look of it that it was a shower, but like

nothing he‟d ever seen before. An enclosure that filled the entire wall and inside

curved racks of slender fixtures lined the wall from top to bottom. And that didn‟t

take into consideration the array of what looked like nozzles and such attached to

the porcelain-tipped spigots on the side of the wall. The porcelain tiles were

delicately painted to make it look as though one was standing in the lush jungles of

a rainforest.

Andrew got in and turned two levers. Water sprayed from several different

directions—above water spewed down like a rain shower, and then it splashed

upward from tracking at the bottom. Water plumed fountainlike to drench Andrew.

And then there was the piping that tracked up the walls. Andrew grinned at

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Stephanos. “You‟ve never tried anything like this before. It‟s amazing. Like

standing right at the base of a waterfall.”

Stephanos wasted no time in removing the rest of his clothing, and he joined

Andrew in the large enclosure. Then closed the frosted glass doors. The pulsing of

the water against his flesh had to be one of the most erotic sensations he‟d ever

experienced. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes as he turned round and

round, letting the water hit him from all directions. He heard Andrew chuckle, and

he opened his eyes, wiping away the water that clung to his lashes.

“You like it?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Don‟t think I‟m this decadent all the time. But there are nights when it‟s just

the right thing to top off a day. Face the wall and grab onto the pipe above your

head. Close your eyes. Immerse yourself in the sensations. Trust me.”

Stephanos did as Andrew said, stretching up to grip a pipe that was just

within arm‟s reach.

“Spread your legs,” Andrew said.

Stephanos‟s cock, hard and aroused, brushed against the smooth tile. One set

of pipes lined up almost perfect, shooting several jets of pulsing water aimed

directly at his cock. Water shooting up from the floor seemed to be aimed at a most

sensitive spot just beneath his testicles. Then suddenly the rhythm of the water

changed to short bursts that drove him crazy with lust.

“Andrew.” One word that begged for release.

“Not yet,” Andrew said from behind him. “Keep your eyes closed.”

Stephanos heard the wrapper of a condom shred, and he had a hard time

containing his anticipation. Imagining in his mind Andrew rolling the condom down

over his prick. Almost of their own volition, Stephanos‟s hips pumped; his cock

brushed against the tile. A moan escaped him.

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And then he gasped as he felt something ease into his rectum, but he knew

damned sure it wasn‟t Andrew‟s cock. The object felt narrow and long as Andrew

eased it into his channel. And then more sensations as Stephanos felt the pulsing of

water inside his passage. His hips rocked back and forth as Andrew worked the

implement inside him again and again. The water pressure changed, fast and slow,

short bursts, then long.

“Enough,” Stephanos finally said.

The tool eased out and then was replaced. By something far thicker. Hard

flesh that stretched him, burned him as Andrew thrust inside. A hand encircling

Stephanos‟s prick jerked back and forth as Andrew fucked him.

“Come for me, babe. Now,” Andrew said as he buried his rod inside

Stephanos‟s passage.

“Aghh!” Stephanos yelled, the ecstasy drenching his voice as it echoed back to

him in the confines of the antique shower space. Finally, he collapsed against the

tiled wall, shuddering in the aftermath. Vaguely he felt Andrew allow his softened

dick to slip from inside him. Andrew apparently turned off the water, and only the

odd drip spilled down onto Stephanos, but Stephanos couldn‟t even think of moving.

If he removed his hands from the pipe, he was likely to end up on the hard, wet floor

of the shower.

It was moments later that Andrew stepped back into the shower and engulfed

Stephanos is a big fluffy white towel.

“Come on. You‟re all done in. Let‟s get you to bed.”

Bed. A huge bed, with cool sheets and warm comforters. A bed to die for. Once

dry, Stephanos climbed into the bed naked. Andrew spooned around him.

“This is heaven,” he said, then kissed Stephanos‟s neck. “This is the way it‟s

going to be.”

To Stephanos it felt like a dream, some fantasy, and he‟d wake up back in his

apartment in Heraklion, Andrew far away, and Stephanos alone. Andrew‟s arms

tightened around him.

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“I‟ll still be here when you wake up,” Andrew murmured against his ear.

Stephanos could smell the clean scent of soap on Andrew‟s skin. He felt the strength

and warmth of Andrew‟s arms, his hands stroking over Stephanos‟s chest.

Stephanos‟s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Like at the hotel in Anogia,

everything outside this room seemed to drift away. Time had no meaning. The only

thing that mattered was that he was here with Andrew. As long as he had that,

everything else would fall into place. It had to. He would make this work. Whatever

it took. He relaxed back into Andrew‟s arms, a smile curving his lips as finally the

exhaustion claimed him.

Fires of Crete

Chapter Ten

“I‟m sorry, Stephanos. I don‟t know what to say. I must apologize for my

colleagues.” He handed Stephanos the glass of bourbon and then dropped into a

leather chair opposite him.

It was a disaster. The intimate gathering of his colleagues that Andrew had

planned so carefully didn‟t go as he‟d planned. He had wanted to show Stephanos

how right his decision was in coming to the US. Instead, all he had shown him was

how wide the gulf was that stretched between Stephanos‟s more earthy pleasures in

life and the more cerebral philosophical pursuits of the people that Andrew had

numbered among his friends and associates.

Barring the age differences, Andrew actually being at the lower range, having

rounded the corner of forty the month before, Johnson, whose knowledge was rooted

in philosophical foundations and idealism, became inebriated beyond belief and

expounded on the social and economic situation in Greece. Carson had turned a

lecherous eye on Stephanos, spouting disgusting nonsense about his memories of

free love and the mind-expanding possibilities to be enjoyed in polyamorous

relationships and how three men were better than two. And Stephanos, being of

Greek persuasion, would he be interested in exploring the dynamics of sex with a

much older man? Carson, closing in on retirement at the age of seventy. And that

was just the cusp of the situation. It was like with the presence of Stephanos,

someone had dolloped a healthy dose of testosterone into the room. He‟d never

witnessed them act like this before, all vying for position with Andrew‟s blue-eyed,

sexy Greek lover.

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Did they think this was a fucking game? He loved Stephanos. This was not

some goddamned macho contest. Stephanos was not a prize to be won. He belonged

with Andrew. No one else. God, Andrew had never thought of himself as a jealous

man. He‟d always prided himself on being level-headed. But tonight everything

seemed to have changed. Dammit, he hadn‟t even recognized himself, let alone the

asinine mannerisms of his so-called colleagues. Had he at one time really thought

he could call them friends?

He downed the bourbon in one gulp, and his eyes watered, as the liquid burned

a path down his throat. “I don‟t know what got into them. They‟ve never acted like

that before. A fucking bunch of horny old men.” And that was exactly how he had

seen them tonight. But Stephanos had handled them all with such perfect aplomb.

Perfect in every way. It was Andrew who had turned rude and had finally kicked

them all out of his house. And breathed a sigh of relief once the last of the rotters

stumbled out the door.

“Never again,” he muttered as he refilled his glass.

He leaned back against the overstuffed chair and closed his eyes. Damn, he

was tired. He and Stephanos had retreated to the back of the house and into the

more intimate confines of the study. The drapes were pulled closed. The fire in the

fireplace crackled, firelight flickering across the antiquated room. Already, he‟d

begun to feel the foundations of his world beginning to tremble. This wasn‟t how it

was supposed to be. With Stephanos here, now his world was supposed to be perfect.

He‟d tied up all the loose ends, found his family in Crete, looked forward to

attaining tenure. The road he‟d carved for himself was exactly the way it should be.

His life even populated now with a man he loved desperately. So why wasn‟t it

perfect? Why was he now seeing cracks in the life he‟d envisioned?

He opened his eyes when he felt Stephanos rest his hands on his thighs. He

looked down at Stephanos, marveling at the light and shadow that played across his

features in the flickering light. He was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful man

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Andrew had ever met. But it wasn‟t just outwardly—there was something that

shone from inside as well.

Andrew leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss deepened. Andrew framed

his strong jaw, brushed his fingers over the rough texture of shadow darkening his

skin. He thrust his tongue deep inside Stephanos‟s mouth. His voracious hunger for

this man terrified him at its depth. Suddenly, he pulled away, afraid of the passions

that swamped him. Ordinarily, he was not a man given to such deep emotion. Was

this what love was supposed to be like? To want a person so much, a man would kill

for them? Would sever every other piece of their life in order to be with them? His

heart thundered. He trembled in awe at the enormity of his emotions.

This level of feeling was too much. It was soul destroying, life threatening. He

stared down at Stephanos. It was with a measure of wonder that he reached out and

traced a path over his full, sensual lips.

“Loving you is going to be the death of me,” he murmured.

Stephanos dipped his head and bit the tip of Andrew‟s finger. Andrew drew in

a breath as a sensation rooted in primal lust arrowed a fiery path to his cock,

drawing at his testicles.

“Stephanos.” There was a spreading ache, an undeniable need that flavored

the utterance of his lover‟s name.

Stephanos tugged on Andrew‟s finger. He cupped Andrew‟s hand with both of

his. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked the finger deeper into his mouth. There was

something languorous yet dangerous in Stephanos‟s eyes. Andrew‟s breath

stuttered, and tension coiled in his chest. He felt an answering animal need claw its

way up inside him. The growl that he emitted surprised him. But he saw a lusty

light of understanding flood Stephanos‟s expression.

Stephanos eased Andrew‟s finger from his mouth. He lunged forward, caught

the edges of Andrew‟s pristine white dress shirt, and ripped it open. Andrew gasped

with the primitive force of the action. Stephanos caught the neck of the white T-

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shirt, twisting. He drew Andrew up from the chair, dragging him down onto the

Persian carpet in front of the fireplace.

He pushed Andrew onto his back, hand still tightly fisted into the front of the

T-shirt, drawing it tightly across Andrew‟s chest.

“You think I wanted any of them, Andrew? You think I was tempted when I

have you?” Forcefully he yanked downward. The T-shirt ripped, exposing Andrew‟s

chest, which sharply rose and fell with each excited breath. “You, Andrew. You are

mine. None of those foolish others.”

Andrew lunged upward, grabbing Stephanos by the neck, fusing his lips to

Stephanos‟s mouth. He tasted blood as a tooth ripped at Stephanos‟s flesh.

He shoved Stephanos back against the sofa, ripped at his clothing, as

Stephanos frantically tore at his until they were both naked with nothing other

than firelight clothing them. Flames that licked inside and out, coating them with

sweat as they rolled across the carpet.

“All night, I‟ve wanted to do this. For hours, I‟ve been waiting to fuck you,”

Stephanos said, the tone of his words promising dark and lusty demands.

“Yes,” was about all that Andrew could manage. Stephanos had Andrew on his

hands and knees, bearing down on him, forcing his submission. He found his

discarded tie and wound it around Andrew‟s wrists, locking them together. “What

are you going to do?” Andrew asked, breathless with excited anticipation.

“Fuck you.” Stephanos almost growled the words. The tone nearly

unrecognizable.

“Yes,” Andrew said. “Fuck me.”

Stephanos swatted him on the ass.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Andrew screamed. He‟d never been used like this. And he

loved it. He wanted more.

Stephanos spanked him again and then again until tears sprung to Andrew‟s

eyes and he whimpered, begging Andrew to fuck him.

Fires of Crete

“Stay there,” Stephanos said. “Don‟t move.”

Andrew bowed his head, shaking with excitement, and waited for what seemed

an eternity, his body hot and hard and soaked in sweat. But there was no thought

in his mind of disobeying Stephanos‟s order. His ass throbbed from the thorough

spanking; his cock was stretched long and thick with arousal. His teeth chattered,

and he clamped them together in an effort to get some type of control, even though

he knew it was a losing battle.

And then Stephanos was back. Condoms and a tube of lube fell onto the carpet

beside Andrew.

Stephanos dropped to his knees behind him. He stroked his hands over

Andrew‟s cheeks, driving the pain deeper into Andrew. He reached around to pick

up Andrew‟s discarded tie and used it to blindfold him.

“Now you focus on the sensations. I‟m going to fuck you. I‟m not going to be

gentle. Do you want gentle, Andrew? Do you want me to be a gentleman? Do you

want me to be sweet and polite? Or do you want me to fuck you like my ancestors—

our ancestors—would have done it?”

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Do it.” And that was exactly what he wanted more

than anything at this moment. He didn‟t want polite; he wanted barbaric.

“No more talking or I‟ll gag you too.”

Andrew shook his head.

He felt the chill of the lube. At least Stephanos wasn‟t going to try to fuck him

dry. But the handling was rougher than usual. His fingers seemed thicker, longer,

went deeper. Andrew was thrust forward when Stephanos‟s cockhead pushed past

the tight ring of muscle. Blindfolded, all Andrew could do was concentrate on the

feelings raging inside him. The stretch of skin as Stephanos lodged the head at his

entrance.

And then Andrew gasped as Stephanos plunged forward, his penetration going

from zero to full engagement in one quick thrust.

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“Ahh,” Andrew screamed, dropping down onto his elbows. Lifting his ass

higher.

Stephanos withdrew just as quickly. Then plunged in again. And again.

Andrew heard his grunts with each deep penetration. Stephanos‟s fingers dug into

his hips, turning him this way and that. Until Andrew was nothing but sensation

and responses, nothing but feeling and passion. Nothing but an animal as he shoved

back onto Stephanos‟s prick again and again and again.

“Aghhh! Fuck me! Again! Again!” He ground his hips onto the thick cock inside

him. His fingers dug into the pile of the carpet as he sought purchase. His mind

exploded even as he climaxed with the most earth-shattering orgasm he‟d ever

experienced. He collapsed. Stephanos withdrew, still hard. He rolled Andrew onto

his back. He straddled Andrew, folded his unresisting legs forward onto his chest,

and then penetrated him again. He ripped off the blindfold.

“Ugh,” Andrew grunted as Stephanos filled him again. This time instead of

fucking him fast, Stephanos used long, slow strokes. His hips undulated over

Andrew. Firelight and shadow danced over his gleaming flesh. Unable to resist, he

thrust against Stephanos in counter rhythm, seduced by the erotic beats of the man

who mounted him. Owned him body and soul. But now his hunger for this man was

branded to the very depths of his being. He felt it to his core when his lover

climaxed.

“Stephanos.” He held up his bound arms in supplication. In acceptance of a far

greater passion worthy only of the gods.

Stephanos unbound his wrists and pulled him into his arms, against his strong

chest. Andrew shuddered and then melted against Stephanos. Bliss was the only

coherent word that could form in his mind. The only one he wanted.

* * *

Acclimating to a work schedule in Boston was not as bad as Stephanos

expected. Of course, having attended university on a scholarship in Boston made

the transition easier. The difficulty seemed to be in defining his relationship with

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Andrew. Andrew called it a committed relationship. He said he loved Stephanos,

but ever since the night of the party at Andrew‟s house, Andrew somehow seemed to

have withdrawn, holding something of himself apart from Stephanos. He seemed to

have segregated his relationship with Stephanos from his work at the university

and his colleagues. Each passing day it tended to get worse.

After three months, they‟d not even talked about what would happen when

Stephanos‟s work visa ran out. And even if they were to legally marry, the

immigration service didn‟t recognize gay marriage in applying for a green card. If

Stephanos was to stay in the US, he would need to apply for another work visa, and

there was no guarantee it would be approved, and no guarantee he would find

suitable employment if he left the position with his present company. But Andrew

had not seemed open to a discussion on the possibility of returning to Crete with

him either. All he kept saying was that they had time and they would discuss it

later.

Stephanos had to wonder if Andrew was having second thoughts about their

relationship. Perhaps it was not as he expected. He had yet to introduce Stephanos

to his adopted family. Again, he kept saying the time wasn‟t right; his parents

weren‟t available. More and more, Stephanos thought perhaps he should prepare

himself for the inevitable return to Crete. And the reality that the only thing he‟d be

returning with was a broken heart.

He loved Andrew. More than he thought he would ever love anyone except his

family. He wanted to spend his life with Andrew, but perhaps Andrew no longer felt

the same way. And Stephanos was not the type of man to force himself on anyone.

His steps dragged as he turned the corner and caught sight of the huge Victorian.

Admittedly it represented a prime example of the architecture of the nineteenth

century in America. And inside, it was filled with antiques and a library overflowing

with books on history and art that Stephanos probably would have an opportunity

to encounter in few other places. In fact, he spent a great deal of time in the library

perusing the large selection of books. He found he had a great deal of time on his

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own as Andrew was involved in numerous meetings at the university, often late into

the night.

The moment Stephanos stepped inside, he knew Andrew wasn‟t at home, and

probably he would be eating alone. This wasn‟t the way it was supposed to be. It

wasn‟t how he‟d imagined it.

It was eleven o‟clock before Stephanos heard the front door. He closed the book

he‟d been reading, got up, and stepped out into the hallway.

“Where were you?” Damn. He hadn‟t meant it to sound like accusation.

Andrew turned from hanging his coat on the coat rack. Stephanos felt the

presence of that invisible wall that now seemed to separate them, the controlled set

to Andrew‟s expression. “I told you, I had a meeting to attend. A fund-raiser for the

department.”

“Yes. I remember. Andrew, we have to talk. We need to…” What more could he

say? How could Andrew not understand the urgency of their situation?

“Not tonight. I‟m too tired. Maybe this weekend.”

“You know I won‟t be here. There‟s a retreat I must attend. I‟ll be gone all

weekend.”

“Yes, yes. Of course, you told me. I…I forgot.” Andrew turned to head for the

stairs.

But Stephanos couldn‟t just let it go. His patience was running out. He reached

for Andrew‟s arm and swung him around. “Do you want this to end? Is that it? Have

you decided it really was just a holiday fling? Are you wishing me gone?”

The expression on Andrew‟s face was one of guilt, followed by one of panic. Had

Stephanos been right?

“God no, I don‟t wish you gone.” He lunged forward and wound his arms

around Stephanos, gripping him tightly. “Never. You can‟t go. You can‟t leave me.”

And then just as quickly as a light switched off, he pulled away and stumbled back

Fires of Crete

toward the staircase. “I told you I‟m exhausted. I just want to go to bed. I can‟t…I

can‟t talk about this now.”

Stephanos was more frustrated than ever. Hot and cold. It was driving him

crazy. What the hell did Andrew want? And what did Stephanos want? He loved

Andrew, but did he want to stay here? Could they find a way to make it work? He

rubbed his eyes. Trying to sort this all out was giving him a headache. There had to

be a solution. But maybe Andrew was right—neither one of them was in the best

frame of mind to sort it out tonight. Maybe after the retreat things would be better.

At least he could hold Andrew in his arms at night. Lately, in the darkness of

night was the only time when he didn‟t feel just as alone as he‟d been in his

apartment in Heraklion. Slowly, he made his way up the stairs.

Adrianna Dane

Chapter Eleven

“I‟m returning to Crete,” Stephanos said. Andrew stiffened visibly, then slowly

turned to look at Stephanos.

It was the phone call that changed everything. Stephanos couldn‟t wait any

longer. Besides, the tension between Stephanos and Andrew had reached a

breaking point. Four months and still no resolution.

“Who was the phone call from?” Andrew asked, his voice barely above a

whisper.

“It‟s not just about the phone call. It‟s us, Andrew. It‟s about us. Even though

you say you want me here, I sense that you don‟t. You don‟t have room in your life

for a lover—or maybe it‟s just me you don‟t have room for. I don‟t know. And you

won‟t talk to me about it.”

“Stephanos, please. Don‟t do this. I love you. You can‟t leave.”

Stephanos drew himself up. “I don‟t know what it is that you want, but it isn‟t

me. There‟s something going on, but you don‟t talk about it. Dammit, Andrew, how

can you say you love me but refuse to share your life with me?”

“I share my life with you.” Andrew jumped to his feet and began to pace. “What

is this? I share my house with you. I love you. I want you to stay here.”

“That‟s just it. You share your house, and that‟s where you draw the line. I

don‟t want this fucking house. I want you. Emotionally you‟re as distant from me as

if I was back in Crete. You don‟t want a partner; you want a housemate. I can share

an apartment with anyone—as can you—and have that. I want more. I deserve

more.”

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“A housemate? So what? You consider yourself my housemate with benefits? Is

that what you‟re saying? Fuck you! Who the fuck was on the phone?”

This was getting them nowhere. Andrew was not willing to admit there was a

problem. For him apparently life was perfect. For Stephanos it was far from it. He

shook his head.

“That‟s it then.” He brushed a hand down the side of his face. “My father is in

the hospital. He‟s asked for me. I‟m going home, Andrew. Maybe…maybe you need

some time to think about what you want. But I don‟t think it‟s me you love. I think

you envisioned this perfect life for yourself, and a man in your house just completed

the picture you saw for your perfect life. But that‟s not what I want. I don‟t want to

be the final piece to the puzzle. Maybe I‟m selfish, but I want to be the centerpiece.

And I want you to be the centerpiece of my life. The rest is all just dressing. I want

you, but you don‟t want me—not enough. And I can‟t be an afterthought. I‟m going

home to resolve things with my family. If you really want us to have a life together,

maybe you better think about it without me around to distract you. I know what I

want, and I‟ve shown you how much I want to be with you.” Stephanos spun around

and headed toward the stairs.

“Don‟t leave,” Andrew said. He cleared his throat and said it louder. “Don‟t

leave me. I can‟t bear it.”

Stephanos stopped. He strode back across the room and kissed Andrew. He felt

desperation in the kiss as Andrew clung to him. But not the deep, abiding need

they‟d had so long ago. And it wasn‟t desperation that would keep him here. He

hugged Andrew. “You know where I‟ll be when you make up your mind.”

He called the airport and booked a flight. If it came down to it, Andrew could

send him his things later. They already knew at work that due to an emergency he

had to return to Crete. He looked around the bedroom; his eyes focused on the door

to the bathroom and that devilishly decadent interior. But this wasn‟t his home; it

was Andrew‟s.

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He picked up his backpack and descended to the first floor. He‟d already called

a taxi to take him to a hotel near the airport. He couldn‟t stay here another

moment. It was too hard.

Andrew waited for him at the bottom of the steps, near the front door. There

was a look of utter defeat on his face. He just wanted to say, “Say something,

dammit. Give me a reason not to go!” But Andrew didn‟t say the words. The blare of

a horn outside told Stephanos it was time. He had to go. His hand was on the

scrolled brass knob. The pain of his broken heart make it difficult to breathe.

“Wait,” Andrew said from behind him. Stephanos pivoted around slowly.

Andrew held out his hand. The silver chain dangled from between his fingers. He

forced Stephanos to take the medallion. “You‟re right about all of it. Maybe you do

need to go. Maybe I need to sort this out for myself. I do love you. And one day I‟m

going to come to collect this from you.” He curled Stephanos‟s fingers around the

medallion.

Stephanos‟s throat closed. If he hugged Andrew, if he kissed him, he would fall

apart. The medallion bit into his skin. He whirled away, opened the door, and

leaped down the steps.

As the taxi pulled away, he couldn‟t help glancing back. Andrew stood on the

top step watching Stephanos depart. Stephanos didn‟t think he‟d ever seen a more

lonely and heartbreaking image. And one that was likely to haunt him forever.

* * *

Andrew considered many things over the course of the next few weeks.

Stephanos didn‟t return his calls. After the first e-mail, he‟d stopped answer those

as well. He sat in his library surrounded by his books, his memories, and a letter

stating that he‟d been offered that tenure he‟d wanted so badly and worked so hard

to get. None of it meant anything.

“No more, Andrew. This is made too difficult.” Stephanos‟s last voice-mail, the

one Andrew played over and over just to hear his lover‟s voice. Just to hear him say

his name.

Fires of Crete

But wasn‟t that the story of Andrew‟s life? Always abandoned. His mother. The

father he never knew. Those early foster homes. He‟d almost been past that cute

age for adoption when the Larsons decided they wanted him. He‟d been innocent,

ecstatic. Naive. It wasn‟t long before he realized that as far as his adopted family

was concerned, he was never really a son, but more someone to be shaped into what

they thought a son should be. What their dead infant son might have been had he

lived. Andrew was a fake. And up until he‟d met Stephanos, that had worked very

well as long as he remembered his place.

But Stephanos had made him feel things far too deeply. As long as Andrew

kept some part of himself separate and safe, he knew he wouldn‟t be hurt too badly.

That night after the dinner party, something had snapped. Stephanos had pried

open every last hidden corner of Andrew‟s soul, exposing the core of his

vulnerability, what Andrew knew would lead to certain heartbreak. Eventually

Stephanos would discover Andrew was a coward. The one thing he‟d always known

was that anyone whom he thought loved him would in the end abandon him

because Andrew was and always would be a cast-off. Self-protection meant a

lockdown of emotion, or his passions would utterly destroy him. He had been

terrified of losing Stephanos, the one man who meant everything to Andrew. And in

the end he realized he‟d forced his lover to leave him because Andrew had withheld

that very essence that might have assured him happiness.

The house, the job, the tenure were nothing without the love of his life. Was he

strong enough to try again? Could he survive if Stephanos had had enough and

refused him? Could he not try? It could mean he‟d be giving up everything he‟d work

so hard to achieve. Stephanos had turned a fresh, hard, and revealing light upon his

colleagues, upon the life he lived. And Andrew found it wanting. There had been no

real part of it he wouldn‟t sacrifice to share one moment of happiness with

Stephanos.

Self-examination really was a painful process. Bringing all his faults into the

light and examining them minutely. Where was the value in his life? What

Adrianna Dane

mattered to him more than anything? What were the things he simply couldn‟t bear

to live without? And how hard was he willing to fight to hold on to them?

There was only one thing he wanted. To be loved just for himself, even with all

his faults. But who was Andrew? He‟d lost sight of what he really desired a long

time ago. But then wonder of wonders, Stephanos came into his life. It was love he

couldn‟t bear to be without. It was Stephanos‟s smile, that twinkle in his gorgeous

blue eyes. It was that frown of intentness when he was focused on a new and

intricate task. It was the feel of his lips on Andrew‟s. It was the taste of him, the

warmth of his body spooned against Andrew‟s in the dead of night. It wasn‟t just

about not being alone—it was about being with that person that completed him.

This house was filled with ghosts, with the dust of generations past. But in

truth, they weren‟t his generations. His blood was in Crete. His life, everything he

had to live for, was in Crete. What a fool he‟d been. Was he too late?

“Stephanos.” He leaned forward in the chair and stared into the flames in the

fireplace. Into the very heart of the fire. “Stephanos, I won‟t fail you again.”

Fires of Crete

Chapter Twelve

Stephanos had made the right decision in coming back. That was a mantra

that he repeated to himself time and time again. He was right to cut off

communication with Andrew no matter how badly it hurt to do so. Wasn‟t it? After

weeks of feeling like he was caught in a vacuum unable to feel anything except

regret, it was hard not to question himself. Was he really the one afraid to commit?

Relationships did not always travel easy paths. No relationship was perfect. But

loving someone meant you stayed and you worked it out. But he hadn‟t stayed; he‟d

fled.

Yes, the relationship with his family was beginning to mend. His father would

recover from the heart attack. Stephanos had not yielded though on the fact that

they would have to accept him for who he was. At least now they were willing to try.

It, of course, had all hinged on his father.

Ari had been glad to see him, and they‟d gone out together as friends a few

times.

It wasn‟t enough. There was still something missing. A huge piece of his heart.

He‟d be going back to the village where he‟d grown up to spend part of the holidays

with his family. The first time in several years. It felt strange. Tomorrow he would

make that drive. But tonight.

Tonight he sat in the last pew of the church—the same one where Andrew had

found him so many months ago. And he remembered what had happened when they

left the church and gone back to Stephanos‟s apartment. That night had changed

everything for him. So much had changed. God, what had he done? He leaned

forward, elbows on knees, head bowed, hands covering his face.

Adrianna Dane

“God, how do I make this right?” he whispered. “Show me how to fix my life.”

With one hand, he reached for the medallion he wore, cupping his hand around it.

Wearing it somehow made him feel closer to Andrew, and right now he needed that

badly. “Andrew.”

He stiffened when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “I‟m right here.” Andrew

slipped into the pew beside him.

It couldn‟t be real. He looked up at the cross over the altar. He blinked away

the tears. He was too choked up to say anything. Andrew reached for his hand and

linked it with his own.

It was real. Stephanos squeezed his hand. “I‟m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn‟t

have left like that.”

“You weren‟t wrong,” Andrew said. “I was an idiot. And one day I‟ll tell you

why. But”—he gripped Stephanos‟s hand harder—“not right now. Right now, I just

want to be with you.”

Stephanos nodded. Silently he thanked God for the answer to his prayer. It

was a long time later they finally slid from the pew and walked out of the church.

Stephanos pulled the collar of his coat up. He linked his arm with Andrew‟s,

afraid to let go. Afraid he‟d disappear. Together they walked down the steps of the

church.

“I‟m supposed to spend Christmas with my family in Anogia, but I think

maybe the snow will make that impossible.”

“I also.”

“So you‟ve mended the rift with your father?”

“It will take time, but things are better.” Stephanos looked into Andrew‟s eyes.

“Perhaps we both stay in Herkalion. What do you think, Andrew? You are with

family, right?”

Andrew smiled and reached up to stroke a finger along Andrew‟s jaw. “Yeah, I

think so.”

Fires of Crete

Stephanos was afraid to ask the next question, not sure he wanted to know the

answer. “For how long are you here?”

Andrew cupped Stephanos‟s face. “I‟m here until you kick me out. I‟m home

wherever you want to make it. Somehow, some way. It doesn‟t matter. There‟s

nothing, darling, nothing that matters more to me than you.”

The snow fell heavily, covering them in a blanket of white, the air chilled as

they turned and strolled down the street arm-in-arm. Stephanos was too full of

happiness to speak, and it seemed Andrew was the same as well. The church bells

sang out ringing in Christmas. There was an inner fire that burned bright and

lasting. Lighting the way in the darkness. A fire that would keep them warm as

long as they nurtured its flames and fueled it with their passion. A fire that had

singed them, burning out of control, and then consumed them with a voracious

appetite, fusing two souls together. Love could be an untamed inferno or a tender

core of warmth. Love was ever changing, a hungry passion, forging an unbreakable

bond, and Stephanos knew, in his deep feelings for Andrew, that even the gods

above had looked down upon them with joy in their hearts.

Loose Id Titles by Adrianna Dane

Body Parts

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Lonely Hearts

Public Lives, Private Pleasures

The Messenger

Adrianna Dane

The first defining love story Adrianna read back in junior high school was

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, and that set her on the road to her long

standing love affair with the romance genre. Her inspiration in writing often can be

found by listening to song lyrics and reading poetry by such poets as Elizabeth

Barrett Browning, Edgar Allen Poe, and Ranier Maria Rilke. But finding

inspiration for her stories truly has no boundaries for Adrianna.

She freely admits she is a romantic by nature and adding sensual heat to

romance with a dusting of suspense is her motto. Esmerelda's Secret, released by

Amber Quill Press in June of 2004, was Adrianna's first book, and with that story

and her subsequent books has firmly established herself as a voice within the

sensual/erotic romance genre.

Document Outline

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Loose Id Titles by Adrianna Dane
Adrianna Dane

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