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Tarnished Paradise

I was drunk.

Not overly soused, just feeling a nice buzz – you know, the happy, all's – right – with – the – world attitude. That's how I was that night. That night that it all stopped making sense.

I was draped in my chair, head resting comfortably on your broad shoulder while you talked with Henry. And I remember how warm your body was, how soothing it was. And I remember thinking, in my alcohol – soaked mind, wondering vaguely why I was only noticing this now. You were always warm, even when it was cold. Warm when we sat, close together at the tables in the mess tent. Warm those frigid nights, when we all bunked together.

I must have made some sort of noise – maybe I yawned, I don't remember that – because you looked down at me, practically sleeping on your shoulder, and told Henry you'd better get me to bed. And I remember feeling the deep vibrations of your familiar voice rumbling through your body.

You carefully stood, hauling me up gently with you. And I remember, I was perfectly capable of walking, but the warmth of your body, pressed up against mine, your arm a solid feeling around my shoulders as you guided me back to the Swamp, was just to nice to pass up. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and just let you bring me home.

You dropped me softly on my bunk, but I had somehow managed to thread my fingers through the chain of your dogtags, and you fell on top of me. You made no move to leave, so I snuggled closer to your warmth, willing sleep.

But for some reason, I couldn't fall asleep. I opened my eyes to find yours, gazing at me. You were propped up on one elbow, one hand frozen above my head, as if you had just been about to touch me. Your voice was husky as you murmured my name, dropping the hand to stroke my cheek gently. I nuzzled into the strangely soft roughness of your hands. And I remember the odd anticipation that was growing in me.

Your eyes were glowing slightly in the dim light, broadcasting your conflicted feelings. You opened your mouth to speak, but I closed the insignificant gap between us, and captured your lips with mine.

And I remember, it was different, from kissing a woman. Your lips were chapped and slightly rough, while I was used to smooth and soft. But somehow, this felt…right.

Your hand came up to circle around the back of my head, twisting through my hair. Our tongues met, sending shivers down my spine. We broke apart, and I remember how the hesitant look had left your eyes, replaced by determination, pleasure, and…something else, that I couldn't identify. Love? I wasn't sure. But it didn't matter at the time.

Things got more and more heated, and soon, we both had our shirts off. You were sucking on my pulsebeat, while I flicked one taut nipple.

And I remember that I remembered that time Frank and I caught you in the supply tent with Hot Lips. You said "Does paradise need a meaning?" – sure, just to annoy Frank, which it did. But I remembered those words, and they seemed to fit this situation.

But suddenly, something in me woke up. What were we doing? You were married! Married with two kids, and there we were, making out like two lusty teenagers in the backseat of a Buick. So I pulled away, turned away from your hurt eyes. I couldn't bear to face that devastated look on your beautiful face. you started to ask, but I simply pointed to the picture of your wife and kids on the table. Your eyes filled with pain, but understanding.

"Someday."

Yes. Someday it wouldn't matter. Someday we could take this to the level it was meant to. But not today.

So, you returned to your bunk, leaving me cold and sad. And I returned to my now tarnished dreams, waiting for that day.

***The End***

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