QueerClick

A Minute's Pause
By Steve Prince

"Finally."

I barely hear the word. I'd been dreaming and apparently said the word in my dream. Yet I have no idea why because I woke up too quickly to remember the context.

The brutal tangerine light of morning crept under my eyelids while I slept sleeping, pouncing upon me and waking me from my restful night of slumber. My eyes fluttered open as I inhaled quickly through my nose.

As my pupils adjusted to the flood of light, I scanned the small bedroom searching for the culprit that let in the dawn. Ah, an open window blind. You bastard window—traitor! The morning interrupted my dream and I wasn't happy.

Oh, but what was that dream, again? Why do I always forget my dreams so quickly? I shut my eyes trying to conjure images once so vivid in my mind. Flecks of memory momentarily flickered before me like crackling sparks rising up from a bonfire.

My brain aches to remember, but remember what... Peter, a dim apartment, tears, and a kiss...?

It's as if I could barely grasp the memories in my mind. Sadly, the dream wasn't potent enough to interrupt the toxicity of my mundane thoughts of my day's tasks; I had to balance my checkbook today.

No! I didn't want to be inundated by boringness today, dammit!

I just wanted to remember the dream... and him. Oh, and I just get my car washed today too... DAMMIT!

Defeated I glanced to the right and looked at the clock.

7:11am

Ugh. Still so early. I sighed, yearning to sleep-in longer.

A snore averted the generic thoughts infiltrating my mind. I turned to my left to look at my bedfellow, Peter.

I looked at him; he looked re-born in the light—content. I'm reminded of a brooding vampire finally able to see the light of day. Lying on his back, I watched Peter's chest rise and fall, his breath continuing rhythmically.

Suddenly an image from last night's dream flashed into view—mmy lips dancing across his chest, wetting the feeble patches of chest hair. The memory of my teeth delicately encircling his nipple erupts from my cluttered thoughts, as well as his grip tightening on the back of my head.

The dream seems so vivid. So real. But did it really happen?

Peter stirred in his sleep, his left arm hiding under his pillow. As he exposed his armpit, I took in his smell. The smell of dried sweat and bodies that have wrestled together in the night wafted from his body.

I glanced at his arm. It looked relaxed, much differently than what I saw in the dream. The next image came—hisarm tightly clutched around me, holding me upright while Peter pushed himself inside of me. Our lips tightly embraced together.

An obnoxious motorcycle careened past the apartment. I hate motorcycles; they always seem so unnecessarily loud and intrusive. The sound jolted me back into the room, away from my daydreams.

Peter moved at the sound and rolled over on his side, his back facing me. I looked at his back, strong like a brick wall. Freckles cover him. And then another memory hit me, but not a memory from last night's dream.

I remembered laying in my bed in high school and staring at this same back, this same man. I remembered staring at him and ignoring the feelings of desire swelling within me. I remembered wanting to place my hand on his shoulder or graze my lips between his shoulder blades down to the small of his back. Memories of our friendship ignited into view: our talks about people watching at Disneyworld, our mutual love for driving down a dirt road at night in Oklahoma, the wish we had for our own future kids to be best friends.

Like a hug, these memories comforted me. Then, I noticed how beautifully his neck melds into his shoulders. I yearn for him to be closer to me even though he lies only inches away.

Then in my desire, I notice the dream and this morning's reality melding together. They're blended so seamlessly that I can't tell the two apart. Now the dawn truly wakes me because I realize that my dream has finally evolved into the reality. To reassure myself, the image of our first kiss loops in my mind, over and it over. It actually happened.

I pause on a spot on his back, wondering if I have found a new freckle that I missed before.

We kissed. Holy crap, we kissed! A giggle purged itself from my mouth. Why did I keep thinking about this kiss? I mean, we just had made love. Yet that first kiss still remained; it's a moment I'll never forget. Never.

Warm emotion spread through my chest while the lower half of me stiffened. I decided not to wake him; he looked too peaceful and too handsome to disturb. I rolled over and glance at the clock.

7:12am

He stirred again and releasing a light moan. Peter rolled over and pulled me into him, his hard cock resting in the small of my back. I stiffened more. He kissed my neck purposefully.

"Hi," he says, settling his head directly behind my own.

Peter's left arm reached over me and hugged me tighter. He inhaled deeply inhale and sighed. I closed my eyes, allowing the tangerine aura of morning glow to take effect. Now it was my turn to sigh. I felt so relaxed, so comfortable, so loved.

As the morning light raged, unabashed in its mission, Peter and I drifted back to sleep, together... finally.