Coming Home - one shot ficlet.
Cup, Curl, Capture and a cup - for my own Friday challege.
***** ***** ******
Assuredly, no job that leaves a man coming home at cock-crow each morning could ever be quite civilised. Still, the ladies he worked for were good mistresses, and the work suited Caleb far better than any other he had held before. His ladies allowed him to use his size and strength without assuming that with it came bloodlust or anger. Bessie called him her gentle giant and from anyone else it would be patronising, but from the queen of the house it became something to make him colour with quiet happiness.
When Caleb had begun his new job, Alexis had accompanied him several nights a week, under the pretext of capturing this aspect of their half-light world in his articles. It wasn't entirely an excuse, but Caleb knew that after the weeks of healing and nightmares that had been the final payment of his last job, Alexis needed to be sure, for himself, that this was safe. Bessie's cut throat boys, small and sharp and wicked, made sure that their house was safe and that Caleb's imposing presence was nothing more than a setting for the jewels of womenhood on stage.
Caleb could no more have eased a knife around a man's throat or slammed fist into windpipe than Seth or Dave could lift Susan, perched inside a gilt cage with the feathers of her costume spilling out behind, and carry her head high into the room. Bessie said that she believed in letting her people use their talents to the best, not forcing round pegs into square holes. The first time she'd said that Alexis had made a small nod, as though acknowledging a social fiction, but a week of late nights later he raised his glass and toasted her as queen of hearts, which is when Caleb knew that everything was going to work after all.
Still, coming home with dawn nibbling at the edges of the sky felt somewhat illicit. A sneak thief breaking into his own house with picklocks shaped like keys. The feeling evaporated once inside their snug quarters. Alexis always left a lamp burning for him, a low warm light sufficient to find his way around the narrow galley kitchen, and water warming on the foot plate, so he could wash up and eat with a minimum of fuss.
Clean and fed and sleepy, he mounted the narrow staircase, and eased into the bedroom. Some mornings he had lost minutes - maybe half an hour sometimes - watching his lover sleeping in the hazy light that seeped through the curtains. So beautiful, careless and relaxed, dark hair spread over white pillows, eyelashes long on freckled cheeks. This morning though the wind was nipping at Caleb's heels, and he draped his clothes over the chair back and slipped under the blankets without pause. Heaven.
He forced himself to wait and let his water-chilled skin warm before shifting the heavy bedclothes and curling himself around Alexis. His love slept on his side, the line of hips and knees calling out for Caleb to spoon behind them, the curve of Caleb's belly fitting against the arch of Alexis' back - two halves meant to fit together. One arm slid around Alexis's waist, thumb stroking soft skin, the other bent to pillow his own head. Alexis stirred a little. Caleb leaned close to murmur reassurance and love, and let his hand brush Alexis' so his lover could go back to his dreams with their fingers twined together.
Coming home to this each morning was a blessing.
***** ***** ******
Assuredly, no job that leaves a man coming home at cock-crow each morning could ever be quite civilised. Still, the ladies he worked for were good mistresses, and the work suited Caleb far better than any other he had held before. His ladies allowed him to use his size and strength without assuming that with it came bloodlust or anger. Bessie called him her gentle giant and from anyone else it would be patronising, but from the queen of the house it became something to make him colour with quiet happiness.
When Caleb had begun his new job, Alexis had accompanied him several nights a week, under the pretext of capturing this aspect of their half-light world in his articles. It wasn't entirely an excuse, but Caleb knew that after the weeks of healing and nightmares that had been the final payment of his last job, Alexis needed to be sure, for himself, that this was safe. Bessie's cut throat boys, small and sharp and wicked, made sure that their house was safe and that Caleb's imposing presence was nothing more than a setting for the jewels of womenhood on stage.
Caleb could no more have eased a knife around a man's throat or slammed fist into windpipe than Seth or Dave could lift Susan, perched inside a gilt cage with the feathers of her costume spilling out behind, and carry her head high into the room. Bessie said that she believed in letting her people use their talents to the best, not forcing round pegs into square holes. The first time she'd said that Alexis had made a small nod, as though acknowledging a social fiction, but a week of late nights later he raised his glass and toasted her as queen of hearts, which is when Caleb knew that everything was going to work after all.
Still, coming home with dawn nibbling at the edges of the sky felt somewhat illicit. A sneak thief breaking into his own house with picklocks shaped like keys. The feeling evaporated once inside their snug quarters. Alexis always left a lamp burning for him, a low warm light sufficient to find his way around the narrow galley kitchen, and water warming on the foot plate, so he could wash up and eat with a minimum of fuss.
Clean and fed and sleepy, he mounted the narrow staircase, and eased into the bedroom. Some mornings he had lost minutes - maybe half an hour sometimes - watching his lover sleeping in the hazy light that seeped through the curtains. So beautiful, careless and relaxed, dark hair spread over white pillows, eyelashes long on freckled cheeks. This morning though the wind was nipping at Caleb's heels, and he draped his clothes over the chair back and slipped under the blankets without pause. Heaven.
He forced himself to wait and let his water-chilled skin warm before shifting the heavy bedclothes and curling himself around Alexis. His love slept on his side, the line of hips and knees calling out for Caleb to spoon behind them, the curve of Caleb's belly fitting against the arch of Alexis' back - two halves meant to fit together. One arm slid around Alexis's waist, thumb stroking soft skin, the other bent to pillow his own head. Alexis stirred a little. Caleb leaned close to murmur reassurance and love, and let his hand brush Alexis' so his lover could go back to his dreams with their fingers twined together.
Coming home to this each morning was a blessing.