Sunday Afternoon, Watching Baseball...   Sunday Afternoon, Watching
Baseball... lying in bed, propped up against a pile of pillows, holding
you in my arms... it's the most wonderful feeling, so easy and
comfortable. I'm not really interested in the game, but that doesn't
matter. I'm happy just to hold you. Even you don't really have your mind
on the game. I can tell. You're not shouting with delight at your team's
home run, or yelling at the referee about a dubious decision. Instead you
lean back against me, casual and relaxed, your head resting against my
shoulder, and play with my fingers as I stroke your chest.
 
 Then, during a commercial break, you turn your head and look up at me
with a smile, and ask a question that shatters my peaceful mood. "When did
you know you loved me? You know… what made you figure it out?" 
 
 You look surprised as the words leave your mouth, as though you didn't
know you were going to say them. Not as surprised as I am. We've never
spoken of love aloud before. I hesitate, and you look down, avoiding my
eyes for a moment, then back at me before shrugging with an attempt at
casualness and lowering your head to kiss my shoulder. Your tongue
explores the hollow at the base of my throat.
 
 I need to say something, but I can't answer your question, so I return it
to you. You shrug again, uncomfortable now. 
 
 "I dunno... it wasn't like that, for me. It just kind of happened while I
wasn't looking, I guess. Kind of snuck up on me." Your eyes slide away
from mine, and you bury your head against my shoulder again and start
paying serious attention to kissing me there.
 
 Still, I don't respond to your question, even though I know very well
what that moment was. If I close my eyes I can still see it in my mind's
eye. After a short time, you twist in my arms to lie pressed against me
and I can feel your arousal. Instantly, I too am hard. That's the kind of
effect you have on me. 
 
 You suck sweetly at my nipple and I shiver, lifting my hand to stroke
your hair. Whatever it is you do to make it stand on end like that, you
haven't done today, and your hair is flat against your head, soft and fine
as a child's. I hold your head close to my chest.
 
 In a moment you are on the move again, and I lie back, content to be
passive under your touch, while my mind races. All too soon, your tongue
traces the length of my cock, and you nibble delicately at my foreskin. A
trick you learned from me... I smile at the memory of your reaction to
that, but other memories are jostling in my mind. Preoccupied with my
thoughts, the orgasm takes me by surprise.
 
 You crawl back up into my embrace and lie full length against me,
thrusting eagerly against my belly. When your cock brushes against mine,
it sends a shock wave through me. You cry out in abandonment and collapse
on top of me, gasping for breath.
 
 I kiss the top of your head. You mutter something unintelligible and
nuzzle my chest.
 
 I think of the day when everything changed. You were behaving badly, of
course. It seems to be a gift you have to provoke and annoy, and even
though you were a guest in the Consulate, I allowed myself to respond. I
could never have fought you, though, even if I hadn't been your host. The
moment that you understood, the moment you lifted your fists, I saw the
child within you and I was lost. 
 
 If I told you, would you even believe me? Perhaps you would think I was
mocking you. It doesn't make any sense, I know, but there it is. 
 
 Sometimes love is very peculiar.