“Beautiful, isn’t it.” He whispered from the above docking and hadn’t I known it was him, I
could have sworn an angel just spoke to me.
I was sitting on a cold bench, on a cold lonely deck, in a cold night, under the cold distant stars, on a boat washed by the cold night ocean wind, but none of this really mattered. Or, more accurately, mostly none of it reached me.
Above me was the infinitely peaceful night sky, glimmering with stars from far and farther away with a faint pale veil of what we mankind call the milky way. As I was sitting on the bench, on the deck, on the boat, I imagined that, had I been on a smaller boat, which would gently swing to the ocean’s waves, I could say that I was watching the universe breath above me, like a gigantic living being, or a child with starry eyes looking down at a microscopic plankton floating on a strange white object.
I heard his steps clacking at a regular yet enthusiastic pace as he quickly reduce to void the vague distance between us. I tried to keep my attention on the stars but the smile that bloomed on my lips and quickly spread like an African wild firein the savannah and didn’t take its source of origin in the stars above me, but rather, in the sheer delight of having him so close near me.
I shivered a little under the thick blanket wrapped around me and noticing it, he sneaked even closer to gently blow a long humid and burning hot breath on my cheek and neck, which he concluded with an equally suggestive kiss on the jawline and I couldn’t hold it any longer, I burst into a genuine childish giggle. Only he could do such a thing and know that somewhere deep inside secret territories, a mystic fire just got splendidly refurnished with high quality burning wood log.
“You make a little spot?”
I stood up to open my wool cape and let him in, and remembered that moment in the cottage, as I was sitting on his lap, trying to drink my tea without chocking on it. Later that evening, I had my head resting on his chest, dozing off to wonderland, as h was randomly twirling his fingers in my hair. We were almost watching a BBC documentary about the river Ganges, but I was mostly lost in the river of dreams whose tide gently rose around me. Being in his arms like that, I felt I was part of an exclusive living ecosystem, like enjoying the secret breath of a millennial old forest. I let the slow rise and fall of his chest rock me gently to slumber and the melodious female narrating voice building an easier bridge to slumber.
He gently blew air on my face, in a ticklish playful manner and I frowned, wondering about the master trickster's abilities. I opened my eyes and smiled. There he was, tenderly smiling back at me.
"Tommy?" I asked still drowsy.
His smile widened as he offered me his hand.
I hesitated, concerned about disrupting the other Tom's peace, the one in whose arms I was technically snuggled in. I rose my head, but he didn't seem to be too greatly disturbed, yet alone we aware of the presence of his doppelganger. I got up, as softly as I could, which attention to delicateness seemed to greatly amused the other Tom.
He clothed all in white and a soft almost unnoticeable soft glow seemed to gleam about him, his hair was back to short blond too, but the incredible liveliness in his eyes was proof enough it was him. That was undeniable.
He had his hand sturdy laid out, patiently waiting for me, not rushing, holding the invitation. I finally slid my hand in his at the contact of his fingers, a small gently pulsating fire enveloped, it seemed, the entirety of my being. I looked back and had a small vertigo as I observed myself still sleeping on Tom's chest, my breath slow and deep of deep sleep. Tom had a little yawn and looked down on the sleeping me. My heart fluttered as I caught the soft gleaming tenderness blooming on his lips for the instant of a smile.
Tom in white opened the door and the night outside was mesmerizing, with the tall trees like secret guardians on the guard, ready to attack any intruder that had the misfortunate idea of going too far inside secret grounds. I looked the slightest bit up and it seemed the stars had plotted to appear drastically nearer, almost touching the tree tops.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tom in white asked me and I was short of words to share my enchantment.
He lead me a little further in the woods up ahead of us until we reached a small clearing, not the one in which we had spent the morning, but an equally charming one, even more magic, for there stood, at a few feet in frotn of us, a fire as tall as the man standing at my side, as strong and as vigorous, and certainly as vivid of beauty as irresistibly compelling.
For a moment, I wondered which fascinated me the greater; the man or the fire. I smiled as I thought that how both could burn me, in fact.
"Why are you showing me this?" I asked, fascinated.
"You haven't guessed yet, then." He answered in a riddle. "This is your love for me."
And all of a sudden he was behind me, his arms firmly around my waist, pressing me against him gently but assertively. I couldn't draw my attention away from the fire, the realization of it all seemed too absurdly impossible, woven from the thread of dreams and fairy tales.
Pas the fire, a little to the right, sod an equally tall and majestic castle of ancient stones, I knew, had seen many battles rise and even more men fall.
"The castle there, it's you, right ?" I asked in an equally low whisper.
"Mmhmm." He answered on the same tone.
We stood there a considerable moment, just watching the fire breath a steady crescendo of strong healthy flames, sometimes burping golden sparks of light. Tom kissed me on the cheek and a wave imploded inside, in the core middle, at the root of the fire and rippled in it, on all it's height and circumference, like a small nuclear ring made of fire.
"I guess that ... saying "I love you" is rendered futile in such circumstances."
Any words were rendered useless in the face of such an immensely captivating spectacle.
An unusual noise distracted me. It was as if the sound of a bird flopping his wings was muted to a bare audible minimum and then that muted sound would have been amplified to a point where it covered all other sounds around us.
I wanted to tun around to ask him if he had heard the same noise, but I realized that I couldn't. I was sitting on his lap and all I could do was to turn my head and raise my face. The other, the real Tom, smiled at me, a vague concern shadowed his eyes for a fast volatile moment.
"You heard that?"
He ran his fingers in my hair.
I frowned a little, trying to gather thoughts which could define adequately what I was trying to sound reasonably normal, or less fantastical than they actually were.
"It sounded like an amplified muted ... muffled ... bird wing ... sort of noise ... what you'd imagine an angel's wing would sound like.... I guess.
He chuckled softly.
"I think you had a really nice dream."
"Because, this is isn't one?"
Tom stretched out as I got up to to the same. I was just about done when he put both hands on my cheeks and pressed his lips strongly against mine, in a single solid confirmation.
"No, you are not dreaming, Sleeping Beauty."
"Tom, you are sure this is not a dream?"
Under the warm blanket, he bent over and bit hard on my neck, leaving me almost grasping for air. This spot won't content itself in turning blue, and the thought made me smile, which softly exploded into a shy chuckle as those same lips were not gently covering the same spot with apologizing kisses.
Somewhere in the far away forest of my soul, a fire burped particles of light the size of tennis balls and shivered in ecstasy, as a long slow wave of pleasure erupted from the core, its wave embracing the thickness of the fire as it rose like a rogue wave to reach the top.
Somewhere past the fire, a tall castle smiled in its stone walls, as a fortress could do.
This is a small continuation, sequel, to A Small Journey Into Love. It sort of spurred in my mind one random night before I fell asleep and I decided to keep it.