Peru

By Jonathan Peters

Copyright ©2026

My eyes.

Purple-blue like a sad, dark ocean.

Your eyes.

Grey like the sky before a rain after a long drought.

That first meeting. Must have been an age ago. Interior cabin lights were on when we met. All lights faded when we departed. 

Things end. Even stars. Time doesn’t mind itself.

A twelve-hour flight to Peru, interrupted by a child kicking the back of my seat.

Turning, irritated.

“Hey!” I shouted.

He stopped quick. Then I heard a snort. Came from the aisle over. I looked up, ready for another battle.

But it was you.

And that’s how it began.

Our first night together. That trip to Peru had been on my bucket list for a decade. I was by myself. A promise that nobody could ever ruin a vacation if they weren’t there with me.

Until I wasn’t alone. Until you showed up, laughing as I yelled at that poor, bored child.

We spent the evening at Tanta, drinking their famous sangrias with purple corn, relaxing under a maroon umbrella while a blood orange sun set behind silver waves. There were other tourists around, but none as perfect as us.

I fell in love for the first time.

The only time.

All those things that dating apps tell you that matter: politics, hobbies, pets. None of it mattered then. Still don’t now, although some of it would later form our communal identity.

I want to stay in the present. 

We make love just hours after landing in Peru.

Before we do, you ask me what I like.

No man has ever done that. 

“How can I make you feel good? Tell me exactly,” you say, hands on my legs, eyes looking inside mine. 

Can you see me already? Should I let you in so soon?

“Touch me here,” I say, and guide your hands, large in mine, to my inner thigh.

“And here,” I say, moving your hands up my leg.

This spot becomes yours. Now and forever, I want it only for you.

I kiss you, light tongue, taste the sangria. Your hands stay where it’s warm.

“Can I go down on you?” I ask hesitantly, but my mind begs to have you fill my mouth.

You don’t say anything, only lay back while I take control.

We stay like this until my jaw hurts and then I’m on my back and I guide you in. I don’t usually love this position. It’s too vulnerable. I must always close my eyes so they can’t see who I am. 

But not this time. 

You’re gentle. Do you know how rare that is for me? I didn’t even have to ask. Like you know me and always have.

It’s too good for me to fear what this might become. I’ll second guess all of it later.

But right now, this here, let this never end.

But it does. 

We’ll always have Peru.  Won’t we? Please, God, don’t take that away from me too.

I won’t forget your eyes.

Please don’t forget mine.

About the author:

Jonathan Peters is a writer of erotica, crime and horror fiction. He holds an MFA 2D Studio from the University of New Mexico and a BFA from Texas State University. He is currently seeking agency for his first book, Far Away Girls, a fictional crime noir novel. You can find his most recent work here at Bareback Magazine and at the Bath Flash Fiction Award. He lives in the southwest U.S. with his two cats.