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Charlie sighs under me, one of his hands grabbing my arm while his other clutches at the rumpled sheet under him. My mouth continues its trajectory across the valley of his chest. Holy and promised land, yet intimately familiar. Every hair, every mole, and every scar a place of history, of note, a memorial, an anecdote, a place in time.
We continue to ignore the chaos of packed boxes and haphazardly stuffed suitcases piled up behind us. There’s only us in this overheated room. Just us and nothing else. Not our past and not our future. None of the tears or laughs we shared here before. The memories are all collected and scrapbooked. The only thing left is the intensity of being here, right now, in the present. Just the two of us. Nick and Charlie.
I ignore the enormity of taking the next step in my life that is looming with the approaching sunrise.
I concentrate on telling Charlie everything I want to say, without using my words. We’ve talked and planned so much that saying it out loud would feel superfluous by now.
Instead, every brush of my lips on his flushed, sweat-dampened skin is a promise and a prayer.
I am here. I am here. I will still be here. Always. Seared into your skin. Into your heart. Into your mind.
I can’t say the words. But I need him to feel them.
I am leaving. But I am not leaving you. I am never leaving you. Never.
We haven’t exactly slept yet, and by this point, starting another attempt seems futile. Our previous attempts at actual rest have all been interrupted by one of us bringing up another anecdote to remember… or, once again, by wandering fingers and mouths.
In some way, this night is a little reminiscent of the near-sleepless one we spent together in Paris, what feels like an eternity ago now. Even though it was more fingers doing the tickling instead of tongues. And we’re a lot more naked tonight.
But despite the obvious differences, there are still similarities.
Just like now, we were constantly gravitating towards each other. Always touching, as if the happiest place we could imagine in the universe was burrowed into the other’s skin. It’s similar, but oh so different.
The night air, back then, more filled with slightly nervous giggles, not tonight’s breathless sighs escaping swollen lips.
I let my mouth and free hand wander further down his divine body, each caress of my fingers a declaration of love, each lick of my tongue a claim.
Mine. Mine. All mine.
Charlie’s observing me now, the blue fire in his eyes alight again. I keep our eyes locked as I venture lower, my cheek rubbing against the delicious trail of hair on his lower abdomen.
His piercing gaze reminds me of another night like this, the one where we went “all the way” for the first time. It seems absurd that it was just over a year ago. It feels like so much longer. We’ve lived so much life since then.
That night. The night we forged an impossible closeness; the bond between us suddenly felt unshakeable and impenetrable.
That night, we also stayed awake until the sky was pink. Just like it is now, as it’s slowly turning from deepest indigo into fiery rose.
We forgot to close the curtains earlier, too preoccupied with fusing our bodies together to bother with such mundane tasks. Dappled wisps of the dawning light paint patterns on Charlie’s chest, and I sear every inch of him into memory, preserving this moment in amber.
It’s only a few short weeks until Charlie can come visit me, but it feels so much more drastic than it did when he had to leave. My body seems intent on merging with Charlie’s on a cellular level as my fingers work him open again, every touch a reverence and an expression of longing.
His moans above me are akin to a benediction, and I am once again amazed at how far we’ve come since our first nervous fumbles – first over, then under, clothes. By now, I can divine his desires just by the way his breath hitches or changes speed – words seldomly needed once we are in the midst of making love.
We did practice loads.
I move up his body again, slowly, relishing in the way he squirms under me, a clear signal he needs more, right now. But I’m taking every second I can of my time, seeing as we don’t have much of it left until the morning – and with it, reality – comes to rupture open our cocoon.
I stare into his eyes for a moment, drowning in their depth and recognising exactly what he wants. I close my eyes again and kiss him. I kiss him with as much fire as I can still unearth from within me. Our chests joined skin to skin, as if they too, were trying to sew themselves together so we’d never have to be apart.
I move my mouth further to the side, burrowing my face into his armpit to inhale his purest essence. He shudders as I lick his skin clean, fulfilling my apocrine desires.
And then, once more, we move together as one, thoughts and reminiscences eclipsed by carnality and the heady feeling of him under me, around me, encircling me.
After we’ve reached our climaxes, we stay joined, breathing in sync. Damp, mussed-up hair swept together, one sweat-slick forehead pressed against the other, still in the hope we could become one for good.
But even though that isn’t possible, we are and will remain – even with the distance soon between us – intertwined.