Sometimes it astounded him how the small pleasures of life could be the most profound. Like lying warm and relaxed in bed on a chilly Fall afternoon as the light faded, the brush of smooth skin against your body, the gentle sound of your lover's breathing. He turned his head to look at the face on the pillow beside him. It was an interesting face, an eclectic collection of parts that made for an interesting whole, rather like Ray himself. He smiled at the thought as his gaze shifted to each of those parts in turn. He'd done this a thousand times, when he thought Ray wasn't looking, but to do it now in a leisurely way as Ray slept, his lover at last, was a sweet indulgence.
The elegant scrollwork of the one ear he could see and the spare but, as he'd discovered, extremely sensitive lobe was first to capture his attention. It was surprisingly difficult to restrain himself from tracing the delicate curlicues with his fingertip, but he didn't want to wake Ray yet. He tucked his hand under the long slender fingers lying on his chest as a precaution and transferred his attention to the full, sensual mouth. But that wouldn't do... he was flooded with vivid memories of their kisses... that first kiss, so achingly sweet, so perfect. It had stolen his breath away. And his heart. He'd waited so long for this moment, and now it was here, even more perfect than he had ever dared to hope.
He couldn't remember falling in love with Ray, couldn't even remember a specific point in time when he'd recognised that love. It had been like waking from a dream, only to realise that the dream was reality. It had taken a while, though, for him to realise that Ray loved him. He distinctly remembered the bitter-sweet pleasure of watching Ray covertly, the way he moved with a kind of awkward grace uniquely his own, the ever-changing play of emotion across that mobile face, the wild gesticulation of those lovely hands and the fluid shrugging of his slender shoulders, the exasperated rolling of his eyes. Ray had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Even now, when they were closed, he could see clearly in his mind the lucid grey green depths fringed by thick dark lashes and his heart contracted with the intensity of his love.
Later he'd identified in Ray the signs he'd been longing to see, but it soon became apparent that Ray was totally unaware of what was happening to him. Just as he'd been. The symmetry of it was ironic, he supposed, but at least he'd had grounds for hope. More than hope, really... in fact, from the moment he'd realised, he'd been adamant that Ray would one day be his. He hadn't done anything obvious, but he'd bent all his will toward shaping his world into the place where his dreams would become a reality. And then he'd waited. Waited for Ray to recognise that love, absolutely determined that it would be Ray's decision, not allowing himself to consider even for a moment the possibility that it might not happen.
Even so Ray had, true to form, taken him by surprise. He'd noticed the changes in him, but Ray had been moody before and he'd learned not to take these fits too much to heart. So he'd reviewed the last few days to see if there was anything he could have done to upset Ray and, finding nothing, seeing no sign that Ray was angry with him, he'd waited, knowing that sooner or later Ray would come to him.
Today it had happened. When he arrived home Ray had been here waiting for him, still and silent as he had been for the last few days, but here. He'd gone to stand behind him, for the sheer pleasure of being close to him, and waited until Ray was ready to face him. It had been quite difficult really, to resist dropping a kiss on the nape of that elegant neck, but he'd contented himself with breathing in the scent of him and listening to the soft breathing. Loving Ray had taught him to take pleasure in the small quiet things.
Ray had turned eventually, had met his eyes with a small reassuring smile and he had responded instinctively with a smile of his own, still none the wiser. Then it had happened. Ray's eyes had flickered away from his for just a moment, but when they'd returned they'd been full of dazed comprehension. For a moment he'd been unable to breathe, or think as Ray had searched his face. Then, as recognition had flared between them, Ray had leaned forward and kissed him.
He could still feel that kiss tingling on his lips, could feel Ray's hands on his cheeks, the slim hips between his hands, that first touch against the bare skin under the sweater. He would remember every exquisite detail of their first lovemaking until the day he died, he was sure. But now the pleasure of watching Ray was becoming an aching torture. He leaned over to touch Ray's most prominent feature, that preposterous, delightful nose with just a brush of his lips and drew back to watch as the dark lashes fluttered and lifted, unveiling eyes a man could drown in. The full lips curved into a sweet, silly smile.
*
I have no problem telling right from wrong
The way some people do
I know exactly where these arms belong
My problem is you
Waiting here for you
Jackson Browne - My Problem is You