What a frozen little hand

Alexander waited in the Western Railway station as arranged. From there he watched the half-past seven from Budapest arrive almost on time. All its passengers emerged, mingled and went on their way, but with no sign of Zoltan among them. The second hand on the clock above his head ticked by accusingly, its clicks nagging at him, but somehow they seemed slower, so much slower than his own thoughts.
How handsome Zoltan had been, he thought, trying not to pay attention to the passing time. That first day they met, as army recruits, they had all clustered tightly together, frightened as lost schoolboys. But Zoltan pretended not to care. At least until they were marshalled and stripped for their medical inspection. Alexander laughed into himself, yet almost aloud, for a fashionable young woman stared at him and smiled too in passing.

A smart tap on his shoulder caused Alexander to jump out of his reverie, turning, he stood face to face with Zoltan.

Alexander dismissed with an indulgent wave of his hand all of Zoltan’s apologies and explanations about misled baggage and over officious railway staff. He was here, beside him again, and that was all that seemed to matter. A fine strapping man, glowing in the imperial blue of the emperor Franz Josef’s personal guard.

‘Come here, dimwit!’ Zoltan grabbed Alexander and enfolded him with a hug. ‘See, like I told you, I am here.’

Alexander sighed a deeper sigh of satisfaction than anyone looking on could ever imagine. ‘Finally.’ He hugged Zoltan in return, closing his eyes to all but a sense of love. ‘Quick!’ Alexander said, ‘We have to get you and your luggage properly settled.’ He hailed a porter and instructed him to take Zoltan’s stuff. ‘I have a cab waiting, it’ll drop off the luggage at my place. Then we’ll have to hurry on to catch a performance of that Italian thing by Puccini.’

Young master Mahler’s production of La Boheme?’ Zoltan quizzed.
‘Umm,’ Alexander shuffled the porter along, ‘something very artistic and gypsy like that.’

As they boarded the cab, and Zoltan spoke in a stream of excited questions, Alexander smiled, remembering why he had loved Zoltan so much from that first day. Alexander had been having a joke with another recruit, and he had looked around, scanning his fellow inmates absently, when his eyes fell on Zoltan. A gangling brute of a country yokel, standing out among the sons of minor local officials and petty business owners. He was alone, leaning against a bollard, humming a tune to himself as he scrutinized the shine on his new boots. For some reason, and no matter how much he had tried to resist an occasion of sin, Alexander’s vision always drifted back to Zoltan. His swarthy skin, his mess of black hair and his dark chocolate eyes, so unlike himself in all but height, seemed to hypnotize Alexander into a dream of passion. From then on he was enraptured with a sinful delight by all that Zoltan said or did.

‘The Art History Museum!’ Zoltan pointed in childlike glee.
‘Yes,’ Alexander frowned. ‘We’re going to the Court Opera, along the Ring Boulevard.’
‘The Hofburg, look!’ Zoltan almost rose out of the cab window. ‘Where do you work?’
Alexander, suddenly infected with Zoltan’s energy, leaned forward and indicated the roof. ‘I’m in a dingy little office back there, smelling of ancient ink, dead beetles and starchy old men.’ They collapsed back into their seats with roars of laughter at the thought.

Zoltan looked up at the apartment block where Alexander rented rooms, his face still wearing an unchanging expression of sheer wonder and joy. ‘We don’t really have time for a wash and brush up,’ Alexander apologized. ‘The man here will take your stuff up.’ Alexander tossed a few silver coins toward the old man who teetered out to take charge of the bags. With deft hands the porter not only caught the coins but had the cases lined up and ready for delivery, all before Zoltan had time to offer help. ‘We’re eating out, Georg. But a fire would be nice for when we get back.’
‘Right you be,’ the porter touched his battered hat, ‘I’ll let the Ma’am know.’

Lazily Alexander dumped himself back in the cab beside Zoltan and said, ‘Hi!’ Almost at once he regretted this silly attempt at being nonchalant. Zoltan had merely stared back at him, with no more than an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

‘Alex,’ Zoltan’s eyes fixed onto Alexander, his stare piercing into Alexander’s soul with a question that seemed impossible to fathom, ‘why the hell don’t you hold me?’
Alexander chuckled lightly, then tutted at his friend. ‘What here?’ He whispered. ‘Two of his imperial majesty’s trusted military servicemen doing a fancy-boy in public?’ he laughed. ‘Do me a favour, please!’
‘Spoilsport.’ Zoltan sulked. ‘You held my hand when we were in camp.’
‘That wasn’t all I held there either,’ Alexander quipped, which had the two of them rolling around the cab once more with tear-stained laughter, and it left them locked in an embrace.

Zoltan came from the opera humming one of the tunes that had stuck in his head. Alexander came out with him, fussing with a scarf and buttoning a greatcoat, but inspecting the audience to gauge its response. Luke warm, though amusing, it seemed was the top notch opinion. But that no longer mattered to him. Zoltan had enjoyed it, as did most of crowd. And that was more reassurance than Alexander could have hoped for. So, with a light heart, he linked arms with Zoltan and headed off for a late supper at the poshest Hungarian-run restaurant he could afford.
As they sat at a cozy candle-lit table by a misting autumnal window, they drank wine and pondered the meaning of life with an impish glee.

‘That lady,’ Zoltan pointed a little finger at one very well upholstered grand-dame, just then in the process of pining on her massively feathered hat,‘she was on the train with me.’
Alexander turned to view her with a lazy gaze. ‘Is the beauty her grandson or her nephew?’
Zoltan stared at the neatly uniformed youth in her company. ‘Her beau,’ he said.
This made Alexander sit up and pay more attention.
‘She travels up from her husband’s factory near Breslau every month.’ Zoltan whispered. ‘Ostensibly to visit her invalid old school chum and to keep an auntish eye on the nephew who’ll inherit the whole show. But really she’s having an affair with the nephew’s best friend.’
‘No!’ Alexander hissed, giving the woman and the youth a smile as they passed.
‘Well,’ Zoltan sat back and sighed, ‘maybe not. But wouldn’t it be fun if it were true!’
‘Oh! you. Eat your Weinerschnitzl and be quite.’

Alexander eased himself into a comfortable position so that he could look at Zoltan. Not quite believing he was actually here beside him, Alexander yearned for some more tangible proof. Then a grin stole across his face, as there it was, a very real proof, for the warmth of the their legs intertwined under the cover of the tablecloth.

Zoltan’s looks had matured, he thought, since last they met, now nearly two years ago. He had become broader and firmer looking in his athletic build too. His appetite, however, was as good as ever it had been. The disappearance of his own goulash and the offer to help finish Alexander’s made that plain enough. And it delighted him. There was something so real about Zoltan that forced Alexander to turn from glimpsing at the pale ghostly reflection staring back at him in the darkened window. It impelled him to swim through the tobacco smoke and lounge on his elbows, closer in to the inviting sexual heat that returned his looks across the table.

Zoltan blessed himself discretely, as a private grace for what they had received of God’s bounty, and he reached across to touch Alexander’s face. ‘I like it,’ he said with a wink, running his fingers over Alexander’s fine moustache. ‘Somehow the blond hair there makes your beautiful face more attractive than ever.’

Flakes of snow tripped across the shivering streetlights while Alexander and Zoltan huddled at the cafe door. Thicker and faster the snowflakes fell, as the crowds on the pavements, though eager to be home, seemed to smile up at the frolics.

‘Turn your collar up.’ Alexander reached up to Zoltan’s neck and tugged at his greatcoat.
Zoltan giggled, flicking at some snow as it settled on Alexander’s nose.
‘A taxi?’ Alexander asked as they started to walk into what had become a blanket of white.
‘Let’s just walk,’ Zoltan said with a childlike seriousness. ‘It isn’t that far.’
‘It’s far enough, we’ll be chilled and soaking when we get back.’
‘Good! I can rub you dry, just like I used to.’
‘That’ll be nice,’ Alexander pushed Zoltan into a dark alley, just to land a secret kiss.
Although golden light from closing shops and cafes added an unreal aspect to their walk, they decided to take shortcuts along more or less deserted streets. So, as the pools of glowing yellow became less and less frequent, and even the eerie hue of the public gas lights were fast becoming mere specks, they linked arms about waists and danced through the snow.

‘Sir!’ came the smart salute as they ambled up the steps of Alexander’s apartment building. Georg, the doorkeeper, porter and general handyman, gave them a suspicious glare while helping them out of their sodden coats. ‘You’ll need to get out of them there wet clothes, sir.’ He chided Alexander. ‘A good thing the missus had the fires lit good and early.’
‘Yes, thank you, Georg.’ Alexander submitted humbly to the old man’s tender concern.
‘I’ll make sure he gets dry,’ Zoltan beamed, ‘ I’ve a new pair of socks from his mother.’

Alexander stared at Zoltan for a while. Neither quite believing they were soon to be together in his rooms, nor able to doubt the searing heat coming from the doorman’s fireplace or the chill of the uniform beside him, close enough to touch.

With bounds they left Georg at the foot of the stairs, scarcely hearing the call that some freshly made soup had been left by the landlady’s maid and only needed heating through.
At last, a few breaths apart, they were alone behind a closed door.

Zoltan sighed and reached out to brush the damp hair from Alexander’s face. Even in the dark of the shadowy room Alexander’s hair seemed to twinkle like an Advent Crown, yet his blue eyes also held a glow, unspeakably deep, with a sensual warm-day blue. There, leaning against the closed door, Zoltan took hold of Alexander’s face. Cradling it in both his hands, gently he drew it toward him. Alexander’s eyes flickered shut, and Zoltan focused on the inviting lips ready to be kissed. For a few seconds they held back, awkward in the intimacy, but like frost in spring they soon melted, folding into each other.
‘Mister Alexander, sir?’ Adelheide the apartment block maid tapped at the door. ‘I’ve got hot water here from the kitchen, sir. The Missus says you’ll need it against the chilblains, sir.’

Alexander drew back from Zoltan, and prised him from the door. He threw a towel toward him and opened the door as he dried his own hair.
‘Begging pardon, sir.’ Adelheide peered into the room in the middle of a semi-courtsey. ‘Hot water, sir. From the Missus, sir.’
‘Against the chilblains,’ Alexander jibed, ‘yes, I know. Thank you, Adele.’ He stood back and said, ‘Please, come in from the drafty corridor.’
‘Sir!’ The maid bobbed and shuffled in with a porcelain bowl and jug. ‘Two fresh cotton towels too, sir.’ She whispered staring at Zoltan, transfixed at the sight of him drying his hair. ‘Shall I fix the lights for you, sir?’
‘Do. But only the oil lamps here, we’ll not be staying up late.’
‘Oh, but do have the Missus’ soup, sir. It’ll right warm you through. Here, I’ll set it by the stove to heat, and stoke you up good and snug.’

Zoltan hitched open the stove guard for the maid, giving her a beaming smile.
‘Thank you, Adele,’ Alexander snapped Zoltan’s damp towel from him and give it to the maid with his own. ‘We can do the rest ourselves.’
Adelheide gave them a polite bob and flounced from the room with a curt, ‘Sir!’

Zoltan unhooked the tight collar of his uniform jacket, and slowly, very slowly, released the buttons across his chest. ‘Come here,’ he told Alexander.
Alexander hesitated. He looked back at the door, then over to Zoltan, whose chest hairs bristled over his exposed vest. ‘I’ll lock the door.’ Alexander mumbled. His hands shook as he turned the key and tested the lock.
‘Here!’ Zoltan growled and pointed to a spot on the floor just in front of him.
‘Sir!’ Alexander clicked to attention.
‘Take your stuff off,’ Zoltan instructed, staring deep into Alexander’s eyes. He watched the strip closely, but he put out his hand to lift Alexander’s face up as he bent to undo his boots. With soft strokes he smoothed his knuckles across Alexander’s blushing cheeks, then ran his fingertips over the fine hair above his lips. ‘Nice,’ he said, joining in as Alexander’s discarded his clothes. He slid Alexander’s braces from his shoulders, caressing the snow white flesh exposed at his neck. Zoltan bent forward to place a delicate kiss, the skin was as soft as any girl’s.
‘Shall I take off my my trousers?’ Alexander asked, mincing from the unaccustomed tickle of Zoltan’s breath so intimate and so sensual.
‘No, let me. I want to enjoy the pleasure of unwrapping you.’

Zoltan slid out of his own trousers as he went down on his knees to ease open Alexander’s flies. He pressed his face into the crack in front of him, nestling his mouth into it, bitting at the long winter underwear that held Alexander’s erection in a loose modesty.

‘Let me kick my trousers off,’ Alexander whispered, as though ears were pressed to his door.

Zoltan got up to kick the trouser legs from his ankles. They stood face to face, covered only in their white cotton longs, black cotton socks, and a mutual raging hard-on desire to embrace.
In a seductive undertone, Zoltan told Alexander to touch him. he closed his eyes as he tensed his arms and flexed his torso muscles. Alexander glimpsed Zoltan’s pose for only a moment, as if for reassurance, then he began running his hands under the tight vest covering Zoltan’s solid chest and down across the accented taut abs. Zoltan smiled a little as Alexander tried to go even further - down to the aching hard-on that he was sporting.

Alexander sighed as grudgingly he released Zoltan from his exploring hands. ‘You’re rock hard everywhere,’ he said softly, moving close in to Zoltan’s face. With a nibbling kiss Alexander pressed his face onto Zoltan’s neck, he drew in great breaths to enjoy the heat and smell of the man he had desire but could not properly have for so long.

Zoltan smiled and pulled Alexander into a bear hugging embrace, staring into Alexander’s eyes as he pressed him close. Every time he had shut his eyes, it was the near-naked Alexander who impressed himself on his imagination. For years now the flicks of the sleeping or daydreaming imagination automatically brought him into his mind, like some kind of inner kinematograph, but always so much more real. Now he lent back and once more closed his eyes, thinking of that illusive Alexander, then opened them once more to the man whose breath he was squeezing out with his powerful hug.

They kissed. A full, open mouth, deep tonguing, nothing withheld kiss. Saliva trickled across their securely locked lips but neither drew away or even stopped to notice.
Within a couple of heartbeats they were naked, touching, caressing, fondling. The pleasure of knowing each other’s body thrilled as only stolen enjoyment may; it was a pleasure that society disdained, an enjoyment that would receive harsh punishment if it were discovered.

Zoltan took a firm hold of Alexander’s waist, he bent at his knees and slid down the soft, almost hairless body before him. At the nipples he delayed for a few seconds, to kiss them and to nuzzle under Alexander’s arms. Then again he returned to his descent. Pressing vigorously against his mouth was Alexander’s thick tuft of pubic hair, and in its midst, the throbbing excitement of his thrill-stiffened cock. Zoltan licked it at first, and touched it with reverence, enfolding completely it in his formidable hands, but soon it was buried whole. He swallowed it down to the balls.
‘Please!’ Alexander cried as Zoltan increased the intensity of his strokes. ‘Let me try now,’ he said, easing Zoltan off his haunches, ‘I need to feel you too.’

The knitted mass of Zoltan’s bearlike body hair fascinated Alexander. He ran his fingers threw it, unfolding it to lick at his nipples Alexander saw Zoltan raise his arms to place his hands behind his head. Without word or encouragement Alexander nestled deeply into Zoltan’s armpits, bitting the hairs and licking the sweat. There he felt the twitching intensity of Zoltan’s cock squash against him, massive and dark against the paleness of his own skin. With both his hands Alexander squeezed along the full length, playing with the foreskin that retracted easily.
‘It’s yours, if you want it.’ Zoltan’s deep low voice echoed as a husky whisper.

Alexander dropped to his knees and took the shaft in a firm grip. He guided the knob to his mouth, licking and kissing the long foreskin and forcing his tongue under it.
Tender groans came from Zoltan as Alexander took Zoltan’s cock in his mouth, and his legs trembled as Alexander began to enjoy the feeling of having him inside his mouth once more.
Zoltan rocked subtly while Alexander cradled Zoltan’s balls and worked a rolling rhythm into the strokes. An engorging swell soon built up and eventually became too great to resist.
‘I have to let it go, Alex.’

Alexander said nothing but increased his rhythm, even taking as much of Zoltan’s cock into his throat as he could. He jerked on his own cock too, working it into a frenzied explosion.
Zoltan suppressed a scream as his whole body spasmed in release.

‘Here,’ Zoltan breathed to Alexander, sinking down to join him on the floor with a cuddle, a slight shiver overcoming them both. ‘You want the soup to warm you?’ Zoltan asked, not stirring from Alexander’s side, but caressing him. ‘See,’ he said kissing Alexander’s fingertips, ‘what a frozen little hand.’

*** For a follow up story see:
Lips Are Silent...