Warm, dark, raining. Soft pillows, silky sheets, heavy quilt.
Sounds slowly drift over him like clouds across a full moon: musical clinking of glasses, water running, the clatter of plates, Sean's muttered curse as he stubs his toe in a dark room.
"Sorry," says Sean as the bed dips and he balances a tray, glasses and a bottle of Orli's favorite wine.
Orli slowly blinks and smiles. As you lay dying, he thinks, your whole life is supposed to pass in front of your eyes. Maybe as you're falling asleep, your whole day does.
Memories come each time his eyes drift shut.
Blink. Sean, pale and tense, coming off the plane and his shame-faced smile. "I hate to fly."
Blink. The cab ride along shiny wet island roads on a rare, rainy evening, desire and expectation escalating with every mile.
Blink. Finally back at Orli's place. Sean's hands tracing over his face, holding him close and kissing him so deeply that Orli came right then, just from the warmth of his body.
Surprised me. Orli squirmed slightly under the covers. Embarrassing.
Sean glanced up from the corkscrew and smiled quizzically. "What are you thinking about?"
"Hmmm," Orli couldn't form a coherent answer. Thoughts were colliding and careening in his tired brain. You. Your hands, your arms. How you hold me so that I can't move, then do things to me so that I must. The wonder on your face when I have you in my mouth. That moment just before you come when you cradle my head in your hands like I'm the most precious thing you'...........
He manages a small sip of wine.
"Oh, Orli, I'm so sorry to keep you awake," Sean chuckles, rubbing his back, smoothing down his cheek. "My body doesn't know what time it is, if I'm hungry or tired or what. Go to sleep. We've got all day tomorrow."
"Hmmm, we do, yeah." Orli smiles more now.
His drowsing warmth encourages Sean to put aside the tray, set the glasses on the nightstand, and slide down on the silky sheets, under the heavy quilt, onto the soft pillows.
Orli can feel Sean's hardness against him and, tired as he is, shivers in anticipation.
Never enough, never too much. He isn't "taking" me, although I'm giving, he thinks in that slumberous logic that he won't remember in the morning, it's more that he is "accepting" me.
He rolls onto his stomach so Sean can slide in behind him. They fit together effortlessly. Sean covers Orli like a blanket and gently enters him, rocking small and slow, and Orli welcomes Sean back home.
This is what I'll dream of after he's gone is his last coherent thought.
And like back in New Zealand, Orli feels loved and cherished and perpetually sated.
Afterward, he rolls towards Sean and believes he'll never be able to sleep in this bed alone again. He rests his head on Sean's chest, listening to the steady, strong heartbeat.
"Remember the time..." Sean will begin in his soft slur of a northern accent, still not ready to sleep.
"I do," Orli mumbles. But Sean's warmth, the sound of his voice, the rain on the roof, the peace, the love all prove to be too much, and Orli drifts off to sleep.
|
