#illgetmerope

The bedroom is dark, the only light from a leak of moonlight between the slats of the blinds and there’s something about the dim that makes everything closer, more intimate.

Robert pulls Aaron by the hips and runs his tongue and teeth against Aaron’s throat and Aaron’s fingers in Robert’s hair feel like a retaliation, tugging and teasing. Then by some magic Aaron has control again, and edges them over to the wall of the bedroom. Robert’s been away on a haulage trip and oh fuck he’s missed this, missed Robert’s body, the size and skill of his hands. There’s only so much memories and late night texts can do.

It’s stupid o’clock and Robert told him not to wait up but he had. He’d sprawled on the sofa, TV on low and pinching himself to stay awake. He’d failed. When he was next aware of his surroundings, Robert was home, creeping around the living room to cover Aaron in a blanket, but Aaron opened an eye and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“I told you not to wait,” Robert said with such affection that Aaron pulled him down by the shirt collar for a kiss.

“I wanted to see you.”

After a kiss that was slow and sleepy, Robert pulled away and with suggestion in his voice said, “How tired are you?”  

Aaron leapt off the sofa and then they were upstairs, stark naked, kissing in a sleep-deprived trance. Real conversation could wait for the morning. Robert would ask about the yard, about Liv, and Aaron would hear the trials and tribulations of some complicated haulage route and queues in Dover.

Aaron’s so close to the edge now, but Robert knows him too well and holds back, toying with him. He tries to roll his hips, rub up against Robert, but it’s a game of cat and mouse, Robert wants to delay it. Robert presses his forehead harder against Aaron’s and lets deliberately loud moans cause goose-bumps to appear on Aaron’s skin. He lets sighs and groans morph into extended versions of Aaron’s own name. Other words blend into it too, words like: good, and yes, and, oh like that. Sometimes, Robert admitted to Aaron, he could get hard just by imagining Aaron jerking him off. That’s how good he was.

Aaron feels Robert sinking, aware that in some way they’re holding each other up. He leans some of his weight on Robert’s shoulder and in turn, Robert presses his nose and mouth into the crook of Aaron’s neck and whimpers. Aaron rolls his head to the side and whispers so Robert can hear, a strangled, urgent cry: “I’m gonna come.”

*

ii.

(art inspiration)

There’s a moment where they share the same breath, where neither of them feel like separate people. Aaron loses the second syllable of Robert’s name down the back of his throat and runs his hands over Robert’s chest, transferring heat to all the peaks and shallows of his body. His hands come to a natural fit around his waist that once might have felt like possession but now is just home. Comfort.

What had it been? An argument, a fight. Something quick and hot-tempered, an explosion of shouting, and later when he was alone, tears. Time was falling from them fast and Aaron hated himself – hated them both – for wasting a single second. When they made up they didn’t speak, curling against each other, pressing their noses into skin and hair and clothes and committing it all to memory while pretending they weren’t.

Robert seems taller somehow, like Aaron’s grief is shrinking him day by day. Robert presses his face against Aaron, breathes him in, puts his hands on his shoulders as if to say: I’m right here. Aaron manages to bottle it all up again, the solid presence of Robert’s body giving him a strength he can no longer find just in himself. He understands now why people talk of finding “The One”, why people talk about souls. He’s always thought it’s stupid. He still does when it comes out of the mouths of people who haven’t known love like he has.

He can feel Robert’s heart racing, just like earlier when the frustrating was pulsing away in Robert’s neck. When they’re breathing in tandem again, eyes closed and all Aaron can feel in the slight weight of Robert’s hands, they begin to move. Sway so slightly that an observer wouldn’t even be able to notice. It feels like a lifetime since they danced in front of their friends and family in a pub tackily dressed for every occasion. A bee hanging from the ceiling. Christmas chintz. He was at his happiest, at an impossible place, and yet the day after he knew prison would crush him.

It feels like a lifetime. It feels like yesterday.

Aaron secures his arms around Robert’s waist with a clinging that says: never let me go.

Breathe in, breathe out. He can make this last forever, if he holds on tight enough. He tilts his head so his lips catch Robert’s and then nestles his face in the crook of his neck. He knows, in some way, that every touch is a goodbye now, but he won’t let the thought consume him. He won’t let it win.

*

iii.

(art inspiration)

When they get home on the Sunday, the 6th, the day after their anniversary, with the low-slung sun blaring into their eyes on the drive home from the hotel, they collapse onto the sofa. Their eyes squint to stay open and Robert pulls a rough hand through his unstyled hair before offering to make Aaron a drink.

“I’m fine,” he says and then in a flush of softness, rests his hand on Robert’s knee and his head on his shoulder. “I’m knackered-”

“-but it was worth it.”

Aaron’s smile steals the breath from him. “Hundred percent.”

It’s hard not to let any leak of sadness through but they’d promised themselves through the weekend that this was a time to treasure, to reminisce and be grateful. Not a time to dwell on the future and the what ifs - when had that ever got them anywhere?

They were supposed to be using Mandy’s money for important things, but Robert had reasoned with him that this was their wedding anniversary - their first - and it was an occasion that deserved celebrating in luxury. Robert booked a five-star penthouse suite with its own terrace, a hot tub, a gilded bath in the bedroom. Aaron didn’t want to see the bill and he let Robert organise the whole thing as a surprise, shutting out any pressing thoughts about what their life might look like in a few months to just enjoy the moment. It wasn’t denial. It was survival.

It was second nature in the hotel bed, adrenaline and passion made him euphoric. Robert took every sensation he owned and multiplied it. Toes curled, spine arched, the pressure of pleasure so intense he thought he might have to escape his own skin. Afterwards Robert checked the time on the watch Aaron had gifted him – well, returned – a year ago and then stroked Aaron’s face, thumb stilling on his lip.

“A year ago to the hour, husband,” Robert said.

“Best day of my life,” Aaron said, denying the tears that were threatening and leaned to kiss him, to seal their anniversary with a new vow of its own. To cherish every second.

They didn’t even entertain the idea of going somewhere that evening, it was as much as Robert could do to entice Aaron downstairs to the bar and restaurant for something to eat. But that was after a long, hot soak in the bath, watching Robert lay stark naked as he flicked through the TV channels. Aaron wore a shirt and blazer as promise and then because Robert was nothing but a cheesy bastard, an extra dessert was brought out after they’d finished the first, and placed between them.

Happy Wedding Anniversary x

The waiter gave Robert a subtle nod when he placed it down, candle and everything and said to them, “Congratulations. We heard it was a very special day.”

“It is,” Robert said, filling Aaron’s stunned and aching silence with an adoring smile. “Thank you.”

Aaron stared at the candle, his throat clenching after the waiter had gone. “Can you make a wish if it’s not a birthday?”

“Worth a shot.”

Under the table Aaron gripped his hand and together they closed their eyes and wished for the same thing.

Back at home on the sofa, Aaron feels Robert shift beside him, reaching for something on the coffee table. It’s their wedding album. Aaron knows Robert’s been keeping it out to look at every few days, opening it and closing it like picking at a scab. When it’s out, sitting there, it’s shiny cover, it taunts them, comforts them. Every day has the same atmosphere.

Aaron budges up next to him so they’re comfortably squashed in the arm of the sofa and tucks his arm through Robert’s so they can look through it together. They’re in silence mostly, looking at each picture, each photograph electric with its own memories. They laugh out loud at some of them from the reception, like the one of Faith leaving lipstick marks all over Robert’s cheeks. There are photos of all the family, the doughnut cake, the car, the decorated pub filled with photos taken from their life together. The album tells a story all on its own.  

“It was perfect,” Robert says flicking back to the photo of the two of them after they’d said their vows, when they were walking back down the aisle, confetti, tears and cheers surrounding them.

“Feels like yesterday.”

“We can always do it again,” Robert says with a teasing smile.

“Marrying me twice not enough?”

Robert takes his hand tightly, it’s all bones and knuckles and sincerity. It feels unbreakable.