Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

he was doing. I always knew he'd come home to me. After the scare with Private Carter, who threatened to out Mac ten years ago, we've been an exclusive… Well, not a couple but at least exclusive lovers.
    Now what? Now that Mac no longer had to live in fear of being dishonorably discharged, surely he wouldn't be content to just fuck his best friend anymore. He'd want something more, wouldn't he? Why I hadn't thought of this sooner, planned for it, I don't know. Denial maybe? Contentment?
    At forty-two, my hair was beginning to thin, my beard had taken on a silver glow, and I hadn't been on the prowl in over ten years. The thought of hanging out in clubs, looking for random hook-ups, worrying about safe sex issues, and learning to trust made my head hurt. Would I ever meet anyone I trusted enough to let them fuck me? Would I have to take on the more dominant role with future lovers? A small, frustrated sound escaped me and Mac patted my chest and murmured, "Shh, I'm here," still fast asleep.
    Christ! The man knew what I needed even in his sleep. I tightened my arms around him. How in the hell was I ever going to find anyone like Mac?
    Better question was: when had I fallen in love with Mac, beyond friendship?
    ****
    By morning, I wasn't any closer to finding answers to the question wreaking havoc in my head. I slid out of bed, pulled on a pair of fatigue pants, and snuck quietly into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and splashing some cold water on my face, I headed to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Only two things cleared my head, Mac— even though he was currently the source of my screwed-up head— and exercise. That's why I'm so muscular—my head is fucked up a lot and Mac is gone a lot. It's how I deal.
    I shoved the coffee table out of the way, dropped down on the living room floor, and started doing push-ups. Counting each one off, I concentrated on the push and pull of each muscle in my arms. Focused on the way my toes flexed under, keeping my abs clenched, and nothing more. By the time I counted off seventy-five, my breath had sped up, sweat rolled down my temples and along my spine. The burn with each contraction of muscle radiated up my arms, across my shoulders, and settled as warmth in my lower back. My head was my own once again, the burn and the fatigued muscles my only focus. At one hundred, I rolled onto my back, planted my feet on the floor, and took a deep breath before counting off sit-ups. During these moments, I was in control— control of my body, my mind, how far I pushed, and how hard I drove myself.
    At one hundred I slowed just enough that Mac's face snuck into my head, so I pushed it away, redoubled my efforts, and pushed the sinew of my body past its normal limits. "One-twenty-five," further "One-fifty."
    "Hey! Why didn't you wake me up? I'd have worked out with you."
    Mac's voice stopped me short, and I opened my eyes to see Mac standing over me dressed in nothing but a pair of matching fatigue pants with a questioning look on his gorgeous face. It was as if I hadn't done a single rep, the peace I'd found gone as every uncertainty came back in a rush, making my head throb. In defeat, I leaned back on my hands, stretched my legs out, and tried to get my harsh, panting breath to slow down as I stared up at him.
    Mac straddled my right leg and went to his knees. He placed one hand on the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him, and rested the other hand on my rapidly rising and falling lower stomach. "Hey, what is it? What's wrong?"
    We sat there for an immeasurable amount of time— mirrored images, like always— breathing each other in, eyes locked. I wanted so badly to ask him what he felt for me but was scared shitless of the answer. We stayed like that for a minute, neither of us saying a word. In the end, unable to ever get away with lying to Mac, knowing he would see right through it, I sighed and gave him a portion of the truth.
    "Couldn't sleep, heads all wonked up."
    Mac's fingers teased against the soft hair on my stomach as he cocked his head to the side, those expressive hazel eyes searching, looking beyond my physical form and into the very core of me. I felt naked and vulnerable. My biggest fear was that he would find my new secret and bring it out before I had time to truly understand it myself.
    Whether Mac saw it or not, he knew what I needed. He always knew.
    Warm lips pressed against mine briefly, a tease of tongue swept across my bottom lip pulling a