Equinox ★ jimmy page imagines

thirteen

I take you to the river, down the levee to stand against the shore among driftwood. You've never been here before. Your soft voice is a rush of words. The day is cold and windy and your thick hair is swept by a heavy breeze. Sunlight glitters across the muddy water. You turn toward me and smile.

Your cheeks raise into your eyes. I would like to hold you in my lap.

The weather pulls us back. We revisit the city.

Later, when we've come back to my building and you help me up the stairs, I'm shy again. I make us tea. You sit on my bed like it's your bed and sip.

I find a place by your feet where I can curl. You ask me about my day. Fantastic, I say, though I'm bitter in the leaving. Another tour and another life for you. I set my cup aside to curl around your calves. You're slender. I creep a hand up your pant leg to feel the hair beneath my palm.

You giggle, a rush of air, and I grin. I take it further, crawling toward you. I feel greedy in my sorrow.

Your tea forgotten, I draw the blankets over us in the dark. Under your sweater and shirt, your body trembles. We work together to remove them. I like you here, open to me, warm and pheromonal: the dark hair of your face, your underarms, your chest.

You whisper my name in the dark.

I return, while I put you in my mouth, to the river. You gasp a breath and tilt your hips. I'm envious that I am not your first love. I only want to meet you again and again as the water meets the sandy shore. The same river in a different current, the same land in a different swell. I take you fully, my nose to your stomach, saliva on my cheeks. You twist beneath me. I pull away to try to find you in the blue light.

Your face is half dark under the covers. Perhaps you feel me looking; you glance down and I'm greeted by your lidded eyes and open mouth.

And for the hundredth time, I wonder out loud what it's like to be you. A man and an artist. I wonder how it would have been to grow up beside you as a child.

I contemplate our energies, a mix of masculine and feminine. Something involving yin and yang where we fit perfectly together.

I tell you all this with my cheek to your hip. You hum along, but I think you are lost in the idea of a near-orgasm. I lower my mouth again.

When you are helping me clean afterward, toweling a rag from my kitchen across my chest, you ask me again how I feel.

This time I don't lie. I'm afraid of you leaving. I am afraid of being abandoned, which you've said before is the real essence of loneliness. I say that I'm preparing to contemplate on the memories when you're gone. You retort that I won't have to; you'll be back soon and we'll have more experiences.

Part of me does not believe you. Part of me wants to shun you like a child. The other half of myself closes our space on the bed. I grab hold of you, trapping my body under yours. I clutch you.

You do not laugh or speak. You only let me keep you for the time.

Something a little unorganized. These thoughts have been on my mind lately. I was inspired by someone I love very much, I should give him credit. I hope yall are having a lovely holiday season <3