Amy Lane Truth in the Dark

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It must be difficult, I thought now,
propping my head up on my hand. It must be
hard to love someone and have to sweet talk
them, open them, gentle them, every minute
of every day. It was time I gentled myself,
and let Aerie-Smith love me. Yes, yes, it
made me a chubby bunny, waiting to be
eaten. What of it? Better be devoured by my
lover, who had given me nothing but kind-
ness, than devoured by my own bitterness,
which had never been kind.
And we only had a month. By the time
this would be over, oiling my body up and
stretching myself out, lying in anticipation
with a hard cock and an open arse these
things would still make my prick throb with
novelty alone.
Aerie-Smith walked in and saw my na-
ked chest, a sure sign I wanted him, and
raised his whiskered leonine eyebrows. You
have plans tonight, Naef?
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I smiled brightly and did the silk up
around my eyes. I m just ready to be loved,
that s all.
I heard the sound of his robe being laid
out on the chair, and the light around the
black silk dimmed as he blew out the lamp. I
knew this sound and this light. I knew the
firm feel of his human lips as they pressed
against my own. I knew the slick of his hands
as he ran them over my perfect chest and
then framed my hips, rubbing his thumbs in
the crease of my thighs. I knew the feeling of
his body settling in between my thighs, rub-
bing up against my groin, as I welcomed him
in for a kiss.
His gasp at finding me open, dilated,
and ready for him, was new. The excited
keen he made as his cock slid into me with
just enough resistance to rub him right this
was new. The gentle rhythm of our bodies as
they undulated instead of fought not so
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new, maybe, but the tenderness with which I
accepted it, that was a change.
I d known before that his hands on my
body, our skin in the dark, I d known that
these things were precious.
This night they became holy, because I
let him worship me and I gave him my wor-
ship in return. Sex was lovely. Sex was sub-
lime. Sex was flesh and cock and suck and
fuck and come.
This night, sex was starlight. Sex was
oxygen. Sex was us, and we were beautiful,
beautiful and perfect in each other s arms.
This night, I could believe I was the
beautiful boy with the pure heart. This night,
I was everything Aerie-Smith deserved.
Part IX
Blood
Funny thing about time, isn t it? When your
life is full of fury and bile, it cannot move fast
enough. Every day is an attenuated hell,
poisoned sugar-taffy, stretching between
your first putrid shite in the morning to your
last vomitous belch of consciousness at
night.
Time is a slow-bleeding bitch, then,
isn t she? She s a big, slime-oozing slug, tak-
ing her sweet disgusting self to travel glorb-
glorb-blargh across the span of your days.
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Of course, when you re happy and your
days are numbered, she s still a bitch. Now
she s just a fleet-footed predator, a racing
cheetah, tearing across the plains dripping
the heart s blood of your slaughtered
dreams.
Either way, this bitch was not my
friend, and trying to grab her tight would
only get me wounded. Even I knew that.
I didn t start any arguments with Aerie-
Smith, didn t pick any fights, didn t do any-
thing that would make time move slower,
just so I could have more of it in his arms. I
took the time in his arms and pressed it to
my heart, and for all I kept my tart tongue
and turns of rough poetry as the elfin wo-
man called them, I did what I could to not
turn that roughness on Aerie-Smith.
I wanted him to remember, above all
things, that he made me very, very happy.
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He grew sad as the day of the summer
solstice approached. I had to pretend I didn t
know why, and that was hard. I had to chivy
him out of his sadness when I felt the same
way myself. That made me want to chase
that time bitch down and make her give me
back my still-dripping heart, that s what it
did. But I did it.
Every time he spoke of, You should try
not to hate me too much, when your task
comes due. I d respond with, I hate you
now, you big daft beastie. How s that going
to change! And because I greeted him every
night with a slicked up body and an open
heart, he knew it was a lie, and it made him
laugh.
I wrote letters to my mum and my sis-
ter, saying goodbye without saying it. I didn t
want them to blame Aerie-Smith, and I
dearly wanted him to visit them to tell them
that he saw the best of me in this year. They
should know, I thought, that someone did.
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They deserved to know that their faith in me
hadn t been all seen through the filmy shad-
ows of their love alone.
One afternoon, Aerie-Smith caught me
in the study, playing secretly on the guitar. I
had gotten good enough to keep up with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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