Wait for love... you know you will

[forthedog]

He's making wreaths out of the red blossoms. They're rough and half falling apart, and he's doing it without giving much thought to it, weaving the stems round each other, and the flower petals are crushed between his fingers, leaving red stains on his hands. On either side of the doorway, the little vines are curling tender green lengths cautiously upward. The girls are sleeping in their crib. The sun is lowering into late afternoon.

Somewhere, the leaves are changing and shaking off the branches in a cold autumn rain. Even here the days are getting shorter. It feels appropriate, that it would really begin after she was gone. Soon it'll be winter and she won't be here to watch the girls play in the snow and fill the kitchen with baking smells and roll her eyes at Christmas. She won't be here to warm him.

He has a feeling that he'll be warm anyway. But there's still an ache. Under his breath, he's barely singing something he remembers hearing her sing in her own tuneless voice, some time a long time ago.

She cuts the grain and harvests corn
The kiss of fall surrounds her
The days grow old and winter cold
She draws her cloak around her

It won't ever stop hurting, but he's not bitter. It was more than he ever deserved. And what he has now... It still is.

Comments

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

"I needed this," Tom said, stealing a series of quick, distracted kisses, trying to get his hands into Mike's pants. "It was like...it was like going numb, without you. Remembering just wasn't enough."

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Me too." He loses his balance and sits down a little hard, managing a quick, breathless laugh as he tugs Tom to stand between his legs, looking up at him with lips slightly parted. "Doesn't matter now. It's over."

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

Tom's fly was sagging open and he pressed his fingers through Mike's hair, closer and easier than he'd been in a long time. "Feels like it's just gotten started," he murmured, fingers curled around the back of Mike's neck.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Fucking semantics," he laughs quietly, almost purring at the feeling of fingers in his hair. He reaches out with one hand, traces his fingertips over the lines of Tom's hips, his lower belly, teasing his way downwards.

"Don't give a fuck what you wanna call it. Just kiss me."

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

Tom's hips jerked under the light touch, bottom lip catching in his teeth. He leaned down, catching Mike's mouth in a slow kiss, both of his hands cradling the back of his neck. The angle was awkward but he couldn't make himself step back, unhinge.

"Then what?" he got out, breath ghosting across Mike's cheek and neck.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Then... I dunno." He leans in further, barely brushing a nipple with his lips, framing it briefly. His hand moves lower, one fingertip tracing a small patch of silky, exposed skin before he cups him, kneading gently. Christ, he's missed this. But it's so familiar it's like he never stopped.

"Think we can think of something... we put our heads together."

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

"Naked helps me thing," Tom got out, sentence structure lost completly but, god, so much aching need. He pressed forward and in the next moment was across Mike's lap, settled in his lap and kissing him slowly, fingers digging into Mike's shoulder and back.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Halfway there," he laughs, arching his back and pressing them chest to chest, hands traveling slowly up Tom's bare back and kissing him, taking his time. They've been like this together so many times.

Only now they're both home.

"Rest of the way can't be too hard." He slips his fingers into Tom's fly, gently tugging him free and stroking slowly. "I'll even help."