Big Dump

Mills

Lanky and babbling, I’m standing there rubbing the back of my neck and looking into his eyes, all blue and smiling. I really know that it’s time for me to turn away, but it is easier said than done. Looking into his eyes is similar to diving into warm water, and I can’t keep myself from meeting his sparkling gaze every chance I have. He is speaking seriously, however, and Ed is rubbing his chin and answers him in a measured tone.

“Jonny, anything?”

I meet his eyes, once again, and just stare at him for a moment before shaking my head. “No?” he mouths, smiling, before returning to the conversation and I watch his profile and catch his occasional glimpse.

“I think that’s it,” he claps his hands and the rest of the guys disperse around the studio, their faces already taking the shape of extreme thoughtfulness. I watch Colin take a sit before the computer and turn my face back to him. He’s got a question in his eyes.

“You look lovely,” I shrug, picking up the carton from the table to look at the title. Juice. How interesting.

“Yeah, I trimmed my beard,” he fingers his throat, raising his chin a bit. I laugh and shake my head. Made from concentrate. Who knew?

“You look a bit detached,” he jumps onto the counter, dangling his legs in the air slightly.

“You know,” I say, smiling, “Work. Studio. Music.”

“That I know,” he nods. I read the last bit off the carton (100% pure) and turn to him. There’s a wave of cockiness in my chest and I decide to build a mill.

“You look very lovely,” I say, approaching him and he cocks his head to the side, challenging. I put my hands on the counter on either side of his hips and look him in the eye.

“I must admit, Colin helped me with the trimming,” he nods, biting his lip. I laugh and bring myself closer, delighted by the fact that he doesn’t back off.

“Don’t look down, eh?” I say and he nods slowly. I close my eyes and kiss him quickly, receiving his hands on my cheeks. We kiss intensely for several seconds, mouths almost fighting and I feel his beard scratching me when I bite his lower lip. When we are done I enjoy the diffused redness of his mouth and slightly wild look in his eyes.

“There,” he says, a bit out of breath, and slides onto the floor, our bodies pressed together, “Couldn’t do it 20 years ago, you twat?”

I laugh, collecting him in my arms and he squeezes me in a tight hug, pressing his cheek against my chest and closing his eyes. “I just hope you had nice fantasies all that time. I did.”