Thursday, February 24, 2011

Domestic

In all my life, I’ve only spent the night with four people—and I’m talking about the entire night, sleeping in the same bed, not some late-night screwing followed by a pre-dawn scurrying home. There’s my spouse, of course. There was a man a little over a decade ago for whom I had deep feelings, and with whom I spent a romantic night in which he lost his virginity . . . as a top. There was a reader of mine who offered me shelter on a long drive home. And then there’s Spencer.

There’s only me rattling around my house these days, so I couldn’t begin to count the number of times Spencer has stayed overnight. He knows he’s welcome anytime; all he has to do is announce his intentions.

We have a rhythm to our evenings, now. Most nights of the week he’ll drop by after he’s finished for the day at the studio. I’ll leave the side light on and the door unlocked for him. He’ll park in front, let himself in, kick off his shoes, and come find me wherever I might be. It’s always a genuine pleasure for me to see him. Even in his winter coat and his head half-covered by one of his outlandish hats, the sight of that square, dimpled chin and scruffy jaw, those tea-brown eyes, always sets my heart thumping. He’ll shoot me one of those slow, easy smiles, and we’ll embrace, and kiss.

He’ll make himself something to drink as we talk about our days, or he’ll head to the pantry and help himself to some of the snacks stockpiled there. Some nights I prepare dinner for the both of us. I miss cooking for others. Having someone to take care of comforts me as much as it does him. I’ll stir-fry some curry noodles with vegetables and chicken and crushed peanuts on top, or I’ll grill some salmon and vegetables, or a chicken breast with rice. Or we’ll simply grab a bag of chips, a tub of hummus, and head for the den.

We watch television on the sofa, him at one end and me at the other, our legs entwined. Over the course of the night we’ll swap positions several times. Sometimes he’ll have his head in my lap, and I’ll absently stroke his hair while we watch the screen. Or he’ll pull me down so that I’m reclining on him with his big arms around me. We’ve watched our way through seven seasons of The X-Files this way, and all of Full Metal Alchemist and several seasons of silly sitcoms from Comedy Central. Lately I’ve gotten him hooked on Doctor Who. We’ll pause the playback frequently to discuss what’s on the screen, or go off on a tangent together, talking, snacking, and companionably spending the evening hours.

It’s cozy and warm, like napping beneath a warm blanket on a winter’s night. It’s a domesticity with Spencer that I know I can’t always have, but is still as sweet as honey upon my tongue. Even as it’s happening, I know that I should be storing up the sensations and the memories, saving them for lonely nights in places I don’t know.

Then ten or ten-thirty will roll around. Either he’ll stand up and stretch and announce that he should get home, or he’ll turn, give me a smile, and say, “Want a sleepover?”

My answer to that question is always yes.

This is the part of the night I like best. He’ll put his cups and glasses and plates in the dishwasher while I turn off lights. Up the stairs he’ll climb. He leaves his clothes in a trail to the bathroom—a shirt on the bedroom dresser, his jeans draped over the upstairs hall railing. Socks on the bathroom floor. Save for the one time I saw him in long johns, he doesn’t ever don underwear. He’ll turn on the shower and collect his things—he has his own face wash, his own soap and shampoo. The toothbrush I’ve given him, he’ll into the stall with him, and disappear into the clouds of vapor billowing over the shower door.

It only takes a few moments for me to ready myself for bed. I brush my teeth and take out my contacts, then leave the bathroom and slip into bed. I sleep naked. One of the great pleasures of winter for me is feeling my nude body against the soft flannel sheets, contrasted by the cool cotton weave of the pillows. In the low light I’ll wait as I listen to the sound of splashing water. It’s followed by the rush of the faucet as he turns it, and then the roll of the shower door on its rails. Through the heating vent between the bedroom and bath I can hear the soft noises he makes as he towels himself.

Then he’ll pad into the bedroom, cocking his head as he walks and giving me a goofy grin. Sometimes he’ll be wearing an athletic tank top with straps that accent his pecs and strong shoulders, and show off his big arms to their best advantage. It’ll cut off just above his round, pert dancer’s butt, which gyrates cheek by cheek as he pads to the bed. Sometimes he’ll come out of the bathroom still steaming, naked and unashamed of his body. He’ll pop his iPod into my clock radio, and start his sleepytime playlist.

Into the sheets he’ll slide, his butt snuggling firmly against my dick. We spoon together well, Spencer and I. I’ll insert my left arm beneath his pillow and let my arm hold him tightly around his chest. I’ll slip my hand beneath his tank top and run it over the firmness of his abdomen, the broad muscles of his chest, the soft planes of his nipples. Then he’ll turn his head and kiss me over his shoulder, long, slow and deeply.

“I like sleeping with you,” he’ll always say, in the softest of voices.

“I like you being here,” I’ll tell him, as I run my hand down his side, past his knife-sharp hipbone and around the soft peach-like globes of his ass. Often at this point we’ll make love. Sometimes we won’t; we’ll just cuddle, and talk in low voices.

But this is what’s vital, on the nights he sleeps over, what I really want to remember: the warmth of his damp skin against mine, like a stoked furnace. The smell of him, all soap and shampoo and astringent. The unguardedness of his voice, as we murmur in the darkness. The cat, settled between our two sets of feet. His mouth against my ear, his hands on the back of my neck. The gentle strains of music from the speakers, playing a lullaby. And finally, the heavy breathing coming from between his lips as the motion of the day slows to a standstill, and he falls asleep, protected in my arms.

It’s not fucking. But it’s important. I want to store up as many of these nights as I can, while they last. And I want to remember them in all their simplicity and beauty.

44 comments:

  1. Hey hey hey! You spent the night with me. :P

    :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh my gosh. I totally did, Writer. I will fix that.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wow! It sounds so lovely, sweet and warm. I can't imagine it ever happening to me though. For one, I have a very hard time sleeping if someone is in the bed with me. I can't sleep at all if they are holding me.

    So, I'm completely envious. If it hasn't happened in 48 years, I doubt it ever will.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Beautifully written. It made me appreciate those same moments I have with my husband.

    ReplyDelete
  5. No worries, dearheart. I know you did but I was more giving you a hard time than anything else. LOL

    ReplyDelete
  6. I think more than anything, Breeder, you paint me the kind of life I most want. Lovers, yes, but soft nights of a lover warm against my body. The soft pre-sleep whispers, and knowing what sunlight will be in my arms in the morning.

    Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I think I will cry when you guys part. Why does it have to end? *sad* yet *happy*

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thank you for this beautiful post.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Domestic tranquility indeed. Beautifully written, beautifully lived.

    ReplyDelete
  10. At the end of the night, even the filthiest pig just wants to be held...

    the Dr.

    P.S.: That's not meant offensively in any way but rather an observation I've come to realize in my own encounters - in which the roles are never that clear anyway... ...

    ReplyDelete
  11. well all I can say Writer is you are real lucky man to have spent the night with The Breeder!

    ReplyDelete
  12. Thank you.

    I have nothing more to add than the tears welling in my eyes, distilled from the beauty of your sweet truths.

    Again, thank you,

    Drew

    ReplyDelete
  13. This is the hottest thing, in my humble opinion, that you've written to date. -j

    ReplyDelete
  14. I agree with Anonymous above. Sometime the hottest thing can be the simplest, and just curling up and falling asleep in the arms of a loved one is wonderful. Same goes when waking up with them the next morning.

    ReplyDelete
  15. i've been following spencer's and your story, well as much as you graciously share with us. i'm going through the same exact thing with my own 'breeder'. everything you write is like you're taking it from my life. it's so similar, i'm also attached to someone else and when it will end with my 'breeder' is uncomfortably unclear. it's really strange and beautiful to read. you're much better with words than i could ever be.
    so thanks for sharing and doing it so gracefully.

    ReplyDelete
  16. I love that you guys watch Doctor Who together!

    ReplyDelete
  17. We all long for that special person with whom we can share our love uncondionally. A great phyical relationship is an important expression of love and lust but could never come close to what you have with Spencer. Thanks for sharing, makes me want to give you a big hug.

    ReplyDelete
  18. I started reading your blog because it was hot. I keep reading because of the beautiful tone of your words and the vivid imagery of your stories. Thank you for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
  19. Of all of the many posts of yours that I've had the privilege of reading, this is my favorite. I think it may already be one of your favorites also - and I'm willing to bet that, many years from now, when you come back and reflect on these memories from this part of your life, this will be one of the ones you treasure the most. The love that you share with Spencer - the joy that you give each other - are captured forever in the sounds, the images, and the lingering touches that you've captured here. Because you wrote it down, it's alive forever now. But you already know that.....

    ReplyDelete
  20. Of all your posts I have read, this is the one that truly touched my heart and it was beautiful! Nothing could describe "love" like this blog entry! Amazing writing!
    Eric

    ReplyDelete
  21. Wow... I have goosebumps just reading that story. Many of us would be lucky to experience that for one night, let alone a lifetime.

    ReplyDelete
  22. Ojo,

    Don't count yourself out. Plus, when there's someone you want to sleep with—genuinely snooze with, that is—you adjust.

    ReplyDelete
  23. Krysm,

    Thank you. And you have a fortunate husband.

    ReplyDelete
  24. Oscar,

    You won't be the only one crying. And thank you for caring.

    ReplyDelete
  25. Anonymous W.,

    A big smiley back to you, too.

    ReplyDelete
  26. Throb,

    No one's ever accused me of beautiful living before. Do I get to meet Martha Stewart, now?

    Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  27. The Dr.,

    I didn't take the aphorism as intended to cause offense in any way. And it's so, so true, too.

    ReplyDelete
  28. Dan,

    I don't know. I think I came out the fortunate one in that encounter.

    ReplyDelete
  29. Drew,

    Your comment really touched me. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  30. Anonymous,

    Thank you. I say that with all the humbleness of your opinion.

    ReplyDelete
  31. Gordon,

    I wouldn't know about the waking up. I wake up early, then sneak out of bed and try to tame my hair and brush my teeth before he can see me.

    ReplyDelete
  32. Neoncomeon,

    Your lover is a very lucky man. I wish you both happiness and clarity in your future, whatever it may bring for you both.

    ReplyDelete
  33. HH,

    He's never seen it before. Now he's totally hooked.

    ReplyDelete
  34. Anonymous #2,

    Thank you for that. I could always use a hug, even if it's virtual. I'm most appreciative.

    ReplyDelete
  35. Anonymous #3,

    You're really very kind to say so. Thank you for reading, and I hope I can keep you coming. Er, coming back.

    ReplyDelete
  36. Jonking,

    Oh, you say that about every entry! Your willingness to be enthusiastic about almost everything I write is really sweet, and touching. I really appreciate your faith in me. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  37. Eric,

    Thank you. I can't say anything more sincere than that, simple as it is. I'm glad to have touched you.

    ReplyDelete
  38. Anonymous #4,

    Sadly, I won't have Spencer for a lifetime. I'm learning to try to be content with the time I do get. And thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  39. Ce que tu as écris, je le vis maintenant depuis presque 20 ans avec l'homme de ma vie. C'est beau et c'est très vrai. Merci de nous faire partager ta vie.
    The things you wrote, I've lived them for the past 20 years with Mr Right. All you said was beautiful and so true.
    Thank you again for sharing your life with us.

    ReplyDelete
  40. Frenchie,

    I feel so international, now. Merci!

    ReplyDelete
  41. Sugar, spice & everything nice.

    ReplyDelete
  42. How large your heart must be! Storing these moments, scents, sensations, memories and feelings. What a beautiful, tranquil soul.
    JPinPDX

    ReplyDelete