Thom’s jeans are a faded puddle on the floor. His sweater and shirt are thrown over them and I see a pair of boots kicked against the wall as I make my way through the apartment. Opening the door to the bedroom I’m not surprised to see him sprawled on the bed, laying on his stomach, arms stretched across of him. He is breathing deeply and there’s a quiet snuffling sound that I can hear only if I listen closely.
His bag is opened and still unpacked, standing close to the closet, which I emptied for him. I see a pair of his folded shirts and smile, rubbing my face a bit.
I know really that he should rest, but I can’t think about exiting this room and going on with my business, waiting for him to wake up. So I drop my backpack quietly to the floor and walk to the bed quietly, planning on how to nuzzle into him without waking him up fully.
I dive in and kiss his shoulder, running my hand over his bare back and inhaling his sleepy bergamot scent. Ever since he moved in with me, my bed smells of bergamot and I find myself sighing with pleasure each time I go to sleep.
I guess I’m quite selfish, because any other would be perfectly content with just having an arm around his waist and pressing his cheek against his shoulder blade, but I can’t stop running my lips over his shoulder and back, flicking the tiny freckles with tongue and just stroking his skin lightly. His snuffling is long gone and he groans into the pillow and I chuckle soundlessly.
“How was university?”
His voice is muffled by the pillow and his eyes are still closed. I ruffle his hair, lacing it between my fingers and enjoying its softness.
“Lovely,” I sigh out, although it wasn’t lovely at all. It’s just that I can’t really tell him that it was tiring and dull, since this room makes everything perfect.
“Great. You are going to sleep now?” he lifts his torso off the bed and the small slits with sparkling blue looking at me for a moment before he moves closer to the wall and rests on his side. I don’t hesitate and crawl closer to him, embracing his little stomach and blowing slightly on the skin of his neck.
“It tickles,” he flinches a bit and I press my forehead against his shoulder, smiling. I run my hand along his side. His skin is scorching where the blanket covers it, but it’s chilly where it is in the open air. He shivers when my warm palm rests on his cold chest.
“Colin called,” he turns around with a deep sigh, throwing his arm around me so that now we are chest-to-chest and embracing.
“How is he?” I let my thumbs brush over his cheekbones.
“I don’t know,” Thom chuckles with his eyes closed, “He asks so much about us that I never have time to ask him how he is doing.”
“Well then,” I kiss the corner of his lips, feeling him respond and turn his face to meet me. We kiss languidly for several moments, our tongues knotting and lungs forgetting to take in air. “…How are we doing, then?” I ask once we are apart.
“Lovely,” he smiles as he hears me giggle and my eyes are closed by now, just as his are.
I imagine that we are blind, mute and deaf and that the only communication we have is the touch. As my fingers trace his spine lightly I wonder if I would recognize him in such situation. We would.
It’s the strangest feeling, but I feel every bump, every elevation, every depression of his body a second before my hands reach it.
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