Artifice - Man x Man - Book Six

Chapter 19

I drift in and out once it's deemed acceptable for me to sleep. Something I've been wanting to do for hours now doesn't come so easily with a naked man at my disposal. The artificial light creeps into the corner of my vision and I can't help but think about how much I miss fire. 

In today's time, a fire might be catastrophic considering the smog in the air but the dancing shapes thrown by a flickering flame were something I had never appreciated in what I, now, consider my past life. It was strange, if someone had asked me what I'd miss about my life I might have laughed and said something along the lines of the travel or the people, but, faced with the reality that I'd never go back there again, what I find I truly miss is quiet.

A luxury he had taught me to appreciate when we first met, the art of silence and appreciating its novelty. A flame is alive and vibrant while being practically silent. The strange, white glow coming from the bedside lamp, the low hum of fluorescent light, this world lacks quiet. 

I drape my arm over his stomach, my cheek resting against his ribs since it's been decided that I need to lie flat so as to not disturb my neck and head. Even underground, the low rumble of cars overhead is unnerving, humans weren't meant to live below the earth. I cuddle closer to him, he no longer smells of the woods but of a strange, almost lavender scent. 

The bar soap offered even lacks a sense of truth. A book is propped up on his chest, and he reads to me quietly; the rolling murmur of his low voice is plenty soothing to lull me back to sleep, and yet here I lay, brought back into reality by the confirmation that we were here for a reason and every day I feel less qualified to fulfill it. 

Surprisingly enough, there is a distinct lack of reading material and I've settled for a dusty romance novel that I can vaguely remember the plot of. I yawn against his side, too tired to remain asleep, I'm stuck in the wakeful limbo of consciousness that is quite useless for resting or participating. My hopes of exercising my gratitude dashed, and I've been banned from any contact below the waist. 

My fingers trace up and down his stomach, "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

 I smirk against his skin, hiding against him from the light. 

"I think you are the last person to lecture me about the importance of sleep. I blame you for my current state."

"Your state of unrest or your state of pouting?" 

I try not to laugh, placing a chaste kiss on his side, eyeing the faded ends of the claw marks. Sighing, I note the fresh bruising from his fight with Marisol and our pursuant. 

"Don't even think about it." he knows me too well, "You'll get nothing from me until Tonya has a chance to check over that head of yours." 

But, as we lie here, I find my mind drifting more towards our situation than his readily available lower region. Maybe I am growing up? I prop myself up on my elbow, pushing the book flat onto his chest to get his attention. 

"How are we going to do this?" 

Verando raises an eyebrow sarcastically and I wrinkle my nose, snatching the book from him and thumping him on the forehead in payment for his snarky behavior. 

"These people. How're we going to help these people?" 

He sighs, a question I keep asking over and over. The anxiety isn't like me. I can tell he wants to talk about something else so I flop down on him unceremoniously, tracing circles on his chest with one of my fingers. 

"Do you think we would make a good romance novel?" I decided to go a different route. 

He laughs a genuine chuckle that makes me roll my eyes. "Well, we make a hell of a history book. I wish I could have done something to change things."