The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum
He didn’t mind, he thought; he understood then that he really didn’t. If she got up and left him to sleep – if what she wanted most in the world in this moment was for him to rest – he’d be glad of that too. Dreams were fragile things; they were easily shattered, and couldn’t be recaptured once they’d gone. They were bubbles, thin and translucent, which drifted up into the world and popped in their own time, and could be only remembered, and never again seen.
Perhaps that was the moment when Aremu knew it was not a dream; perhaps it had been earlier, that morning when he’d woken with her still in his arms, and it was only that it had taken a long time for the knowing to filter though him. This wasn’t it, Aremu thought to himself, clearly and easily. They had time; they had desire, between them, however comfortable or uncomfortable Aurelie was with it, whatever she knew or experienced or did not know or had not experienced.
It wasn’t a dream; it was much better than that.
She shifted forward into his lap; Aremu half-stifled a low noise that seemed to come from the deepest parts of himself, a low sort of groan that echoed through him despite his best efforts. Aurelie kissed him, sweetly; Aremu held on to her hip, holding as still as he’d promised, kissing her back. She kissed him deeper.
What are you searching for? Aremu wanted to ask her as her lips found his again. He didn’t know if she knew; he found he didn’t want to press knowing on to her, not yet.
Aremu laughed again when Aurelie walked back her demand. He chased her just a little forward, kissing her again; his hand shifted from her hip, and stroked slowly along her spine once more, tracing the line of it from her shoulder blades down.
“Would you like me to take my shirt off?” Aremu asked, softly, another time when they came apart. Aurelie was still on his lap; his hand was soft on her shoulder blades, fingers and thumb exploring the shape of them. Face red, she managed to stutter out an agreement; Aremu shifted, his hand coming away from her, and reached back, pulling off his shirt one-handed. He dropped it onto the sheet, wearing now only the bandages she’d put on him the night before.
Carefully, Aremu took Aurelie’s hand in his; he lifted her small, callused palm to his lips with a kiss, and guided it to the planes of his chest. He smiled at her, encouragingly, his own hand reaching up to cup her cheek lightly, feeling the vibrant heat of her blush.