Streetlights, people, living just to find emotion, hiding somewhere in the night

[jaeresteade]

Sunday, February 7th, day 252
Wee hours of the morning
Whitechapel inn, upstairs

This is why I hate weekends. I’m told that people in other lines of work actually enjoy them, use them to go out and generally have the good time they can’t other nights, when they have to get up and work in the morning. The difficulty I have with this is that the places

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[jaeresteade]

It works, thank God. I feel him spill inside me, a rush of wet heat that stops my shaking for a moment. Please, I think, and maybe I’m saying it as well, please let me. His breath is as hot on my ear as his seed is inside me, and his hand even hotter on my cock. I let myself fall, finally, gratefully, pulsing in time to the movement of his hand stroking me

[jaeresteade]

“Never did anything like that to my sisters,” I tell him. “They were mostly younger than I was.” How have I gotten to talking about my family again? Must be the brandy kicking in.

I roll over on my side so I’m facing him, trying to look at his face and not the rest of him. Really trying not to think about next time and how he might made me work for it. My shoulder twinges as I turn, and it occurs to me that he might want something from me to remember the night, too. “Should ask, because my eyes aren’t staying open much longer, nice as the view is: anything you’d like done right now? Or questions answered? Can’t promise to tell you everything, but I won’t lie to you.”

[regularblack]

There are probably a hundred things I could think to ask. whether any of them are the right thing or the the important thing to ask, I don't know. Why he came here of all places, or whose name that is on his chest. Maybe just why he decided to invite me here.

"How long did it take, the mark on your back?" I ask finally.

it's a huguenot cross

[jaeresteade]

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised he asked about my cross. He’s seen enough of it today. Sometimes I forget it’s there, other days it’s all I can think about. Been busy lately. I’m glad he asked about something I’m honestly proud of. “How long? About five years.” Guess I’d better explain that

Re: it's a huguenot cross

[regularblack]

"I've seen that before," I say. I don't remember what it exactly it was for, but I do remember seeing a very elaborate cross like this one in the back of a book. With the bird, though the one in the book was colorful. Probably still sitting there, that pile of books we haven't touched, collecting dust and secrets.

"Not for me. There's nothing I want so bad as to keep with me all the time." That's the truth too. There's little I would keep with me.

[jaeresteade]

“Nothing at all?” I wonder out loud, and keep my hand on his hip, rubbing in slow circles. Most people can think of something they might have done, a word or a picture that means something to them, or just something they thing is pretty or tough. But not this man. I’ll figure out what that says about him when more of my brain is working

[regularblack]

I give a little shake of my head. He goes from light to serious, so fast.

"No cause to worry," I reassure him. "I don't expect you to tie yourself up, or to make promises. It's not what I'm after." I hope that I'm saying things right, because I've not ever really had this conversation before.

[jaeresteade]

“Thank you,” I say, for the third time tonight. Haven’t had cause to thank anyone this much in quite a while. “I didn’t think it was. Just wanted to be sure.” I climb out of bed, shivering when the cold air hits my skin, and go over to turn the lamp off. We can keep talking in the dark if he wants to, or go to sleep. I’m not going to be able to stay awake much longer, anyway, and he’d probably like to get back to his sister at a decent hour today

[regularblack]

It seems chillier in the darkness and without thinking too hard about it I roll next to him. Far more pleasant to sleep next to a warm body than without. I tug the blanket around us and warm the tip of my nose on his shoulder blade.

"Hah," I yawn. "Better stick to that plan. Otherwise you'll suddenly decide Excolo has need of fine cheese and start buying cows one day. Town does that to people." It does and that's probably why I'm still here. The dark weighs on my eyes and I feel bone tired like I do in the middle of summer.

[jaeresteade]

He pulls the blanket up around us and sticks his nose into my back. If I were a bit more awake, I’d make a joke about that, maybe poke him, but I just don’t have it in me to now. I think he’s joking about the cows and the cheese, too, but what he describes still scares me. “I start buying cows, you have permission to take the shotgun I’m sure you have out on that farm of yours and blow my head off.” I mean it, too, but the words come out in a mumble it would be hard for anyone to take seriously.

I can feel him relaxing at my back, and if I lean into him to soak up the heat, well, the bed’s not overly large for two men. It’s been a long night, none of it bad, and the end of it very good. Didn’t expect this from the man sitting at the end of my bar looking cold. He’s not cold at all now. Could do with more nights ending this way. Hope this works out, our arrangement, that no hard feelings come of it. God knows everyone has their troubles, some worse than others. But here we are, warm in this night. Not a bad thing at all.

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