Jonathan pulled his feet up from the cold floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. The sleeping Andrew on his bed was peaceful and still, his dark hair sticking to his damp forehead and the covers partially kicked off. Almost a year now. More than he had hoped for. More than he actually dared. Jonathan felt the hard band of steel contract around his heart and closed his eyes. Maybe they would have another year, maybe two. But then... Sooner or later, probably sooner, Andrew would see, and the questions would come. And the fear. And the parting of ways. If he was lucky, at least without hate.
In his travels he'd learned that God has as many faces as there were people, and that none of those faces knew him. And how could they, when he didn't know himself? He had a vague memory of being someone else, in a small fisherman’s village. A boy, not rich, but neither starving. Not loved, but not hated either. Just a boy, making his living as a fisherman. He remembered a small boat on a storm-ridden sea. He remembered cold water closing in around him, his limbs going numb and the moonlight dancing on the violent waves, and then darkness. What happened between there and the beach where he woke up he didn't know, and his memories of the old life had been no stronger then than they were now.
In eastern Europe, he'd been a vampire, in South America the Boraro, in India the spawn of Ravana. He only knew he was neither. Years were put to years, decades to decades, centuries to centuries. Jonathan kept moving, he didn't age and hardly slept. He didn't need to eat more than very little, but was driven by this hunger. This constant emptiness inside him that he filled with drugs, sex, religions... love...
Andrew turned in his sleep with a little grunt and opened his eyes. He smiled and and lifted the covers a little as an invite for him to get back into bed. As Jonathan slid under the covers and up against the sleep-warm body he closed his eyes and shivered. That scent... that rich smell of skin, heavy fabric and yesterdays sin. The scent of Andrew. He rested his head on the pillow and folded his arms around his lover, his nose buried in his hair, feeling his cock grow hard against the round buttocks.
Another year... maybe two... was he being too optimistic? A quiet moan escaped him as he felt Andrews hand reach around to grab his still growing member, his teeth gently sinking into the soft skin behind his lovers ear to leave a faint mark. He would stay like this forever, in the sleep-warmth, in this richly decorated room, where the dust danced in the sunlight creeping through the heavy velvet curtains. He loved this place and period in time for it's beauty and for it's easy access to the things that quenched his thirst. And he loved Andrew. He kept almost still, just letting his fingers slowly dance down Andrews side, counting each rib and following the curve of the hip, his thumb circling the protruding bone before reaching the warm, hard flesh, evoking a content sigh from those soft lips. He smiled, taking deep breaths to catch the subtle change of the smell in the room at his lovers response, shifting to let his own erection slide in between the slim thighs, trying to forget.
The hole inside him was always stronger than everything else. Every time the past year that he'd thought that he should leave before getting too entangled, that emptiness had taken over, making him fill it with Andrew. He clenched his jaw as he pushed in, hearing Andrew draw a sharp breath of air between his teeth as he picked up a slow rhythm, his fingers ghosting over the beloved body in front of him, feeling the play of the muscles under the warm skin, the tensing and relaxing, hearing the shortening of breath.
He no longer remembered how old he was. He'd forgotten half of the places he'd visited. His feet were getting tired but his hunger would not let him stop wandering. He heard the familiar groan escape his man, feeling the warm fluid stick to his fingers as he fell into the dark ocean himself, the water closing around him as his body shook with the pleasure of the release. The sea filling him to the brim with salt water and contentment. The darkness no longer inside him, but around him, holding him in a secure embrace where he felt the only peace he knew. And he thought “I want to stay”.
I love this story! Please, don't stop writing ^^ReplyDelete