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[ s o . l o n g ] by kHo It hadn't been planned. It was just one of those things that had a natural transgression that you didn't seem to be in control of. One moment you'd been having coffee with him in his apartment and the next he'd been sitting next to you. He'd been talking to you in that soft lulling cadence of his and then his breath had brushed over your cheek and you didn't even think to question it. You know your sons are waiting for you back at the house, and your mother is probably wondering what it is that's taking you so long, but you can't seem to force yourself to care. It's in the back of your head, nagging you to take notice, but then his tongue brushes lightly over yours and that voice gets stifled once again into the recesses of your mind. It all started with a look that turned into a kiss, and it all ended up as this. You had a cup of coffee in your hand when it began, and you're not sure if you'd dropped it or if he'd taken it from you when he'd kissed you, but you're positive you don't care. His hand brushes over your face and you realize you haven't done this in over a year. Somewhere you know you haven't done *this*, not with a guy, not with Eli, *ever*, but again you can't seem to force yourself to care. His touch is feather light, and his mouth tastes like the burnt coffee you'd been drinking seconds before, and somehow you know that you'll probably never be able to think of coffee in quite the same way again. It doesn't bother you, because you never liked coffee all that much anyway, but you might find yourself fixing a cup every now and then just to remember how his fingers feel in your hair. They tug slightly, because your hair is curly, but not enough to hurt, and you almost like the sensation anyway. His mouth seems to curve in just the right way over yours and you find that your hands have minds of their own as you tug on his big collared cowboy shirt to pull him closer. He makes a muffled moan that comes from somewhere deeper than his throat and you find yourself echoing it despite yourself. He's always been Richie's friend, and while you'd never had a problem with him you'd never felt the kind of closeness you'd felt with him recently. Against all odds his breakdown broke down a door of yours that you hadn't even been aware had been closed off, and he's somehow weaseled his way into your heart without your knowing. You know with a certainty as his tongue grazes lazily across yours that this is where you're supposed to be at this moment in time, and you haven't felt that certain about anything in a very long time. He leans backwards slowly and you follow till somehow you're lying on top of him on the couch and his legs are tangled with yours. You can feel that he's as into this, if not more so, than you are which prompts your hand to start unbuttoning his shirt. It's khaki colored, and it's got red embroidered flowers running down alongside the buttons, and the feel of the raised threads beneath your fingers somehow makes you think of scars. You know it's just thread in the back of your mind, but you can't help the pang that comes at the thought that Eli's so scarred on the inside that somehow it's manifested itself on the outside. You can't help but feel that maybe you have those too. As you unbutton the last button he reaches up and pulls off your top, running his smooth and nimble fingers over your biceps and down your chest, causing you to unexpectedly shiver. It's been so long since anyone has touched you this way that you've almost forgotten what it felt like. He's quick to remind you as his fingers trace back down in a similar fashion and his blue eyes look up at you, echoing the lust and want and need that you know your eyes must show as well. His fingers twine in your hair and he pulls you down to kiss him again, meshing your skin against his. The faint smell of wood and old books ingratiates its way into your nostrils and you wonder if those smells with ever fully leave. You hope they won't, but you push it aside and delve your tongue into his mouth. Burnt coffee and stale cigarette smoke has never sounded like an enticing taste to you, but then you'd never really tasted it before. When it's all said and done you lay with him in your arms and wonder if anyone would really honestly mind if you stayed away for one full night. You'd never been gone from your sons for that long, and you're getting better at letting them be themselves these days, but you're not that much better yet. You know the time will come when the satiated feeling will give way to slight embarrassment and the need to get away and you want to leave before that time comes. His snores are light and airy, just like he is, and you can't bear to move and wake him up when his face looks that peaceful. It's a shock to realize as you're looking at him that his face looks as peaceful as you feel. It's even more disturbing to you that the feeling you're having right now is something that's a little bit more than post-coital bliss, but you're not ready to handle that thought just yet so you just lie there brushing his hair back with gentle fingers. You'll leave soon, and you won't know when if ever this will happen again. You'll think about it all night and it'll make you simultaneously feel a smile creep up and feel all the lonelier. His face as he smiled at you when he woke up will be the last thing you see when you close your eyes that night, and you won't be aware of the fact that you're smiling when you fall asleep, but it'll be the easiest smile you've smiled in years. If nothing else, you'll make yourself a cup of coffee that you've purposefully left on the burner too long and you'll remember that one evening you spent with Eli Cash on his couch. You'll remember it, and you'll smile, and then you'll go back to the life that you lead now and entertain the thought that one day soon it can happen again. [ previous page ]