Jory Strong: Two Spirits

It was ecstasy, a joining of flesh and spirit as Tenino slid into Trey, his cock unsheathed, free of any barrier. He reached around, gripped Trey’s penis, loved the way Trey moaned, pulsed in his hand, gave himself completely over to a passion he’d denied before arriving in Hohoq.

“There’s no going back,” Tenino said, remaining still, fighting the urge to thrust.

“I don’t want to.”

“Good.”

Tenino began moving then, sliding in and out, fighting for breath, for closeness, for the merging of two into one, for the ultimate release.

It came as semen jetted through his cock, through Trey’s, heralded by the roar of rain as spirit sheared away from flesh with a clap of thunder.

They became pure energy, power gathering until it took the form of brightly feathered Thunderbirds, their wings outstretched, riding the thermals in the valley they’d seen through human eyes earlier.

This is real, Trey said, his mental voice awed, humbled, excited.

As real as the cup you accepted and drank from.

Tenino reached out and touched Trey’s feathered back with his talon. You asked what the Thunderbird meant to me. Now you know the truth of it. In the eyes of The People, you’re one of us now. My partner and lover.

With those words, desire stirred in Trey and he became aware of his human form lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, Tenino curled around him in a silent embrace. He faltered, felt the powerful, winged shape start to become insubstantial, torn between the call of the storm, the exhilaration of flight and the need to talk, to meet Tenino’s eyes and hold him, to rejoice in both of them being alive.

We have a lifetime to fly together, Tenino said, turning, guiding Trey back toward the cabin, wings moving in sync, hearts beating in unison, two spirits made whole and forever joined.