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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
His skin was warm. So warm, in fact, that I wasn’t quite sure if the burn in my stomach was a direct result of my hands against the flesh or simply just the thought of what I was doing — either way, I only cared that it did not cease.

[WARNING: This could probably fit into the gay and lesbian genre as well.]

Submitted: July 25, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 25, 2009



His skin was warm. So warm, in fact, that I wasn’t quite sure if the burn in my stomach was a direct result of my hands against the flesh or simply just the thought of what I was doing — either way, I only cared that it did not cease. His breath was warm, too, though, as it mingled with my own in the most unappropriated way; our lips meeting, his moving away, finding a different patch of ivory skin until they would return, his hands and fingers roaming my body as his knee separated the both of mine and I arched. He was tottering over me anyway, and his other knee kept his balance on the dry leafy ground — the bark of the tree was rough against my bare back but to this, as to everything else, I paid no heed. I could barely register the birds singing in the trees (which was disappointing since I knew plenty of them lived in this oak) and, well, much less anything else aside of Micajah. Nature had become nothing but his lean, tan anatomy and at this very moment, environmental science appealed a good deal over my chosen major, although in no ways would I decline to doctor him.

The sounds the gypsy boy made caused my blood to boil in the most delicious way and, again, I lost focus of everything but his mouth. Soon, too soon, I felt a flush explode inside of my belly like a bomb; shuddering, my muscles tensed and I hadn’t the time to notice my trousers hadn’t yet been fully removed. This would be a problem as soon as my head cleared – at the moment, I couldn’t open my eyes more or less decide which direction was up or down. His long fingers wrapped around me again until I noted they had been around me the entire time. I had emptied onto his hand and my clothing alike and I could not help feeling relieved.

His own pants had been unbuttoned for quite a while now, seeing as that had been one of the first things my fingers took on themselves to do. His shirt was somewhere tossed to the side and as my hands roamed his sweaty skin, I longed to feel more than just his hand against me. I groaned. Because of my spill, his fingers wove around me like they were kneading a rug; I bucked as his kiss-swollen lips crashed onto mine again and we moved harder against the tree. Once more, the blue jay’s song came and went unheard.

The scream, however, did not.

“Isaiah! Ohmy – Isaiah!” Elizibeth’s hand had covered her eyes and, even as I jumped up and fumbled with my footing immediately, I could hear the rustle of her skirts as she looked away. “Oh...oh.” her voice lowered to a mumble, “Blimey.”

My breathing was labored and my appearance disheveled but I wasted the time to blink. When it finally hit me that Micajah was... bloody hell. Micajah.

I pushed him behind the tree.


I coughed, my cheeks reddening. I...my mouth opened. Immediately it closed. This happened twice, the only difference being that on the second time I managed to stutter. “El...El! What...what’re you...?”

“Isaiah! I read here!” I noticed for the first time she did, indeed, have leather-bound book in hand, “And that’s...that’s...”

“A m-man?”

My heart seemed to be a symphony. I prayed for quick understanding.

El paused, returning her hand to her side with the utmost grace. How she managed to do this I wasn’t sure — as her older brother I was inclined to call her anything but a lady of charm. Despite this, though, her fingers flexed. When she turned around, a motion she brought out slowly, I noticed that albeit the hand was gone, her eyes had remained tightly closed.

“You...you know?”

My blush deepened.



Her eyes blinked open, the blue of them a brilliant contrast against the fiery red of her hair. Even I was stunned by my sisters’ unnatural beauty, though that affected none of the situation. It fooled no one. I wouldn’t easily muzzle my way out of this; I half-wished her head were catch fire already and that way this would never have to be discussed.

Her lips pursed. She looked around, no doubt for the man – boy – behind the oak. Her shoulders visibly relaxed as her eyes did not catch him.

But they did, however, catch mine.

I licked my lips sheepishly and it took her no time. “Isaiah Joseph Martin! Put your shirt on this instant! What are you doing – romping around in the woods with boys? Have you no decency?”

I was already beginning to feel myself break. Of course El wouldn’t...

“...There are rooms for such behavior, haven’t you heard? Out here in public,” she hesitated, “Nature. Isaiah, I’m ashamed. Really. You’ve no manners. You were raised in the wild by savages and somehow we have adopted you and called you our own. How father would ever allow this I’m still not quite sure.”

I blinked once...twice. My lips began again in the open-close ritual...in between, my tongue darted out to wet them. For a moment I didn’t know what to say. And, not letting me down, El took this as an obvious invitation to create words of her own.

She did so with a sigh. “Isaiah, you can bring him from behind the tree, you git. And while you’re at it – please, dress yourself. This...that,” she was nodding to my chest, “...Disgusting.”

Sometimes I wonder at the fact our mother birthed me before her. I sighed, though, with a blink.

“Well, don’t just stand there.”

With a roll of the eyes, my bones seemed to snap out of shock and into a hurry, pulling my shirt off the ground and moving to guide Micajah out of hiding at the same time. He didn’t blush or show his shame – that wasn’t his way – and with a bit of a nudge, I had to remind him that he was in the presence of a lady. Well, a lady to him. Just Elizibeth to me. I’d hardly even call her a girl.

Micajah, however, discarded his travel-stone mask with a start, moving into an unsure smile as he inclined his head in the most polite way. I missed her reaction, my eyes concentrating on my buttons; I needn’t the embarrassment of doing them up incorrectly. I feared I would never live this down and I wished for no further reason to tease.

When my gaze lifted, I could see the shock in El’s eyes. Not at his gender, I knew - we’d already established that - but at the color of his skin. The light brown no doubt gave her a start. I shuffled lightly. This would indeed not be a topic to be taken lightly at home alone.

She would have to lecture.

I have no problem with it, really; I simply would like to keep you alive?


His accent was unmistakable.

“Oh, well...my.” I saw the blush in her cheeks at the bit of skin showing beneath his shirt. “Hello.”

The quiet that established then seemed to seep in like syrup. I kept my eyes to the side though I was sure Elizibeth’s were glued to Mica’s — she may be modest, I’m afraid, but she was anything but polite. On the inside, I knew he felt awkward. Once you knew him it was easy to see past the blank page; his writing was loud and clear.

The silence seemed to stay until he took the initiative and began to clear his throat. “Um, I’m..Micajah?” His voice was smooth like molasses, ‘I’ve heard plenty about you.”

By the way he began to speak, one would think he knew nothing of the English language. On the contrary, despite his father tongue in Romani, he spoke the language quite well. In fact, he was cleverly fluent. I would be proud if his voice didn’t trance me so.

“Micajah? That’s an interesting name,” I knew by the term ‘interesting’ she meant Elizibeth-approved, “But I must ask you to keep your hands out of my brothers trousers. From now on, if you don’t mind.”

This time, we both flushed. I did remember the damp spot from minutes ago had to be rather evident and by remembered, of course, I mean ‘followed the gaze of my fifteen-year-old sister’. I sighed, embarrassed again, and turned away.

His smile was loud. I believe he was amused. “In your presence?”

Did I also forget to mention that she was bloody bold? No? Well, no, perhaps I’ve been mistaken. She was quite clinically bloody insane.

“No. Until you are properly arranged.”

I shan’t mention that the only way London would arrange us was properly side-by-side from a noose. Despite this, from my peripheral I saw him nod.

“Of course.”

“Good. Now, then. Grandmother is looking for you. And I’m to read. So if you’d please...”

When no one moved, her laugh was calm. “Go home, Isaiah. And it was quite nice meeting you, Micajah. I hope our next encounter isn’t so..so...”


“Well, yes, but...you’re fine. It was my brother without shards of clothing that I found rather disturbing.”

She was smiling. The brat. I snorted. Now I was most certain he was amused.

“I’ll see you at dinner?”

I picked up my jacket as we shuffled away. I didn’t bother to respond but my glare did not go unnoticed. Unfortunately, neither did her second smile.

“I’ll tie her by her toes one day,” I muttered as we trudged up a small, tree-spotted hill, “I’m still not sure why I haven’t already.”

His chuckle made me think of cottony clouds, the rise and the fall of it a wave in the sea. “Do you have to go back?”

“I do.”

He stopped then, bringing me to face him. We were still concealed enough by nature to be allowed privacy and Micajah took full advantage of our good fortune for he pulled me in, hands on my waist, and kissed me as hard as he could. I melted, my knees springing to a pudding-like quality. My hand trailed up his arm to his shoulder and squeezed, keeping it there to remain steadily on my feet. Briefly I wondered if I’d ever had the same effect.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered against my lips with a grin, “Bright and early, I hope.”

I could only nod. As he brushed his mouth against mine once more, moving away reluctantly, I then could barely stand.

“Goodbye, Mica,” I called after him as broke into a jog. The grass seemed to move on forever and, briefly, I nearly expected him and the earth to blend in as one. It was only when he looked back at me, already not too far away, that his smile was like the sun and I was positively convinced.

“Goodbye, Isaiah — bright and early!”

“Bright and early,” I echoed, my hand finding the bark of a skinny tree. From there I stood and, forgetting to curse my kid sister violently while finally alone, I watched him run away.

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