Strangers in the Night


Another Fiction attempt

When I opened his door I was thankful that it was dark inside. The light of the hallway illuminated us both, and the choice to be friends or strangers was mine. As long as there was light, we were friends. The years of long talks, inside jokes, and shared memories made us incapable of feigned anonymity so long as we were able to see each other. He did not move, and so the choice was mine to make. If I turned and returned to my room, nothing would change. If I entered, I would close the door, and the darkness would transform friends into strangers in the night. I did not know if things would change if we became strangers. Would I stay or would I go? If I left in darkness, would the morning light return us to friends? Could I forget him as a stranger?

I closed the door.

I felt blind as my eyes adjusted to the room. Soon I would see him with different eyes. I would not be me to him, and he would not be him to me. I turned from the closed door and climbed into the bed. His lips found mine, and I was so happy to have become a stranger. I pulled myself closer to his arms, and I jumped as our navels met. The bed squeaked, but coils complained in a different voice than I had ever heard. They were annoyed at handling the pressure of lovers, unaware that it was supporting the same bodies it had so many times before.

“Breathe.” He said.

I realized that the intimate contact had been so sharp that I had begun to hold my breath. He began to stroke my hip with the back of his hand, the soft hairs making me think of a paintbrush, and I began to breathe evenly matching each stroke. I closed my eyes to focus on his touch, and soon my desire for more than a soft caress overtook me. I pressed my lips to his, and began to explore his mouth with my tongue. He tasted like mist, a peculiar combination of water and air, and as I kissed him over and over, I was filled with the strange sense of comfort I got when I quenched my thirst.

Kissing him seemed to awaken his desire for me. I had barely been conscious that I had been leading up until now, but as his hand slid from hip to ass he began to exert his control over me. His kisses became deeper, and soon his hands were punctuating each thrust of his tongue with additional pleasures as he ran his fingers between my cheeks. My hips pulled closer to his, and my legs spread to frame his torso between them.


A different kind of love

So when I talk about gay marriage one of the things that people mention is “what is next?” they talk about incest,polygamy, marriage to beasts, marriage to things? By the time they get to marriage of things, I am rolling my eyes. Who loves a thing like I love my fiance? I guess this documentary has me feeling the need to be more open minded.