MiraculousPart 7It was hell on earth filming up that fucking tree. For starters I didn't get to see him so much, and my life had now been circumscribed so that I only existed in his orbit - a minor planet circling the sun. Billy helped me drown my sorrows. Drown 'em? We fucking nearly gave them burial at sea! "Never mind, Dommie", (I threw a packet of crisps at him for that - cheese and onion, I think), "Not much longer, now. Think of Saturday's re-union, you daft cunt - you're weakening the fucking beer, crying into it!" Bill can always make me laugh. I kissed him goodnight, as he posted me through my door. "Thanks, B'll!", I slurred, dropping a sloppy wet one on his face, somewhere. He had a laugh in his voice as he hugged me goodnight - I couldn't see if he had one on his face, there were too many to focus on. "Save your kisses for the one you love, wanker. I'm off!" He shut the door, and I just made it to the sofa, before collapsing. I dreamt of blue eyes, and a soft voice telling me he loved me. I didn't want to wake up, but I had to - my bladder was sending emergency signals to my brain "empty me, or I fucking burst". I got the message. Half way into one of the most satisfying pisses I've ever had, the phone rang. Some telepathy told me it was him, but I couldn't stop. I ran from the bathroom with my drawers round my ankles...well, jumped would be a more accurate description. I answered the phone, laughing. "Hi-ya, baby!" "Hi, Dom! What's so funny?" I told him. His giggle came down the wire and shot straight into my dick. Fuck! I hoped no one was pimping through the windows! I sat down, my jeans pooling at my feet. "Oh, I miss you, Sblom!" His voice was heavy with longing. "We're doing parts of Cirith Ungol again, this afternoon. The light was wrong, or something. I hate not having clothes on if I haven't got your hands to cover me". I was as hard as a rock. "Don't, Lighe!", I breathed. "I've got to go in about ten minutes." "Well, I'm due on set in five, love. Dirty, costumed, and fucking hot for you!" "No time, now!", I babbled. "Think of Saturday. Think of my hands on you then" I touched myself. I couldn't help it. I sighed. "I'm thinking of your hands on me, now, Dom. Saturday is two whole days away, you bastard!" I groaned into the phone. My hand had a life of its own. "I love you, Lighe!" I grunted. He could guess what I was doing. He was right. "Sblom, I wish I could kiss it - you - now. I wish I could put my tongue..." That was enough. "Lighe, god! Oh, fuck!". A car drew up, outside. "Fuck, my lift is here, Lighe, and...." "I can imagine! Love you, my Sblom!" "Love you, Lighe!" I hopped back to the bathroom, wiped myself quickly, grabbed clean boxers and shirt, and ran. * I wanted to get him something for Saturday. Something I could write my name in, and my poem - such as it was - for us to remember Friday the Thirteenth. I got Shakespeare's Sonnets - no, I wasn't being sarcastic - and thought long and hard what I would write on the flyleaf. I did it in real ink, not ballpoint. I wanted it to keep. I put it in my bag - useful little thing it's proved - together with the essentials (I'd chucked the book away...and the oil. There was real stuff in there, now!), and headed for home - for my Lighe. There were too many people about for me to kiss him. I restrained myself somehow, and settled for a bone-crushing hug, instead. I got one back. We were both trembling. Passion is a fucking wonderful thing! When I got him back to my place I did allow him to get through the door before I leapt on him, but only just. He didn't protest. I decided I'd kiss him on every body part I could give its correct anatomical name. I started with his scapula, worked my way down to his navel, nipped into the left hypochondriac for luck, then found my biology class knowledge had deserted me, and all I could remember were testicles, scrotum, penis, glans penis and anus. Aw, fuck it! (Wink, wink!) He returned the favour. He remembered clavicle, humerus, groin, perineum and foreskin (Oh.My.God!) - oh, and the aformentioned five last of mine, before we both were too far gone to remember anything but mouth, tongue, penis and anus - not necessarily in that order. God, I love him! I love the way he makes me laugh! I love the way his forehead wrinkles when he's thinking. I love the way he kisses me, the way his lips soften, the way his tongue...the way he makes those high squeaky noises in his throat when he comes. Everything. I love his... everything. We staggered off to shower, suffering from post orgasmic fatigue syndrome, and spent half an hour before dinner lying on the sofa, together, gathering our strength for the next onslaught. We had dinner. We made love again. It was quite a night! |