Nymphaea

a/n livid fire: the next chapters are exactly what you demanded, content-wise. I hope they can live up to your expectations. Ch25 is called 'Through green eyes' *hint, hint*


Chapter 23: Silence is golden

Stephen had found the list of dos and don’ts quite challenging. Of course it had been no problem to find simple warm wool clothing in natural colours. In fact, he liked some of it better than what had crowded his wardrobe before. After a bit of thinking he had remembered those army blankets made of wool and had ordered two of them via internet. That would keep him warm, hopefully. Fortunately he had started packing early because that was when he had realized that if he was not to use any artificial materials, he could hardly use his usual travelling bag. In fact, it was probably better to have a rucksack anyway. To his advantage, when researching the blankets he had seen plain-coloured backpacks that fit his needs.

Of course, he had thought of other things - like dressing material, a canteen – but Ayve had not listed that and he had assured Stephen beforehand that he would take care of these kind of needs.

When Stephen had not planned the trip, his mind had constantly been brooding over the second part of that letter. He had come to realize that if Ayve had been hiding his true looks for decades (centuries?), he might be – as hard as that was to believe seeing his usually healthy self confidence – insecure. He might have dreaded Stephen’s reaction and avoided seeing it by writing this letter. Otherwise he could have confronted Stephen with the truth directly by showing him what he really looked like just as well.

But what was so horrifying about his looks? He had written that the body Stephen had ‘seen’ was a copy of his younger self. So Stephen knew what Ayve looked like, at least in the basics, didn’t he? How much could have changed? Had he aged? But Seya must be about his age and he didn’t look any older than what Ayve had projected into Stephen’s mind until now.

Stephen had arrived a day prior in London to when their flight was scheduled. Now he was standing in the entrance hall of the airport, scanning the place for Ayve. Yes, for the picture of Ayve that he had in mind, what else could he do? And he did spot him from afar, sitting on a bench, just rising to meet him.

Stephen’s heart pounded a little faster as he approached Ayve. Something was amiss but he could not put a grasp on what exactly it was. Ayve wore clothing similar to Stephen’s. A thick, warm woollen mantle covered most of his body, from shoulders to thighs. A thick turtleneck poked out of it. Not much to see from the body in question.

But when they drew closer, the difference grew apparent. Ayve’s whole face seemed thinner, as if he’d been ill and had lost weight due to that. When they stood in front of each other, Stephen could make out fine white lines in Ayve’s face. Fine scars on his cheeks, as if from small cuts, long faded so that they were only visible when one looked closely.

Ayve endured his inspection silently. But his face showed his uneasiness.

Ayve’s hair was tied back but Stephen could see that there were a few single white ones in the mass of black strands. Not that there was any sign of age in Ayve’s face.

Stephen seized one of Ayve’s gloved hands (the fingers were not covered) to silently signal Ayve that it was okay. Who knew why Ayve had made such a big deal out of this. Unless… if he had such scars on his face…

They wordlessly made for the check-in station. It was only then that Stephen thought about the fact that Ayve should actually not have a passport. He didn’t even have a surname. But of course he had one. Stephen didn’t bother to ask how he’d obtained it.

They boarded the plane half an hour before take-off. They had rather comfortable seats in the business class. Ayve took the one at the window, after slipping out of the mantle. He had been silent so far and now he was staring through the round opening absentmindedly. Stephen supposed that he needed time to adjust to the new situation. He took his own mantle off and sank into the seat beside Ayve.

Without the coat, Ayve’s figure was easier to make out, even beneath the sweater. He was definitely thinner than he had claimed to be. Looking at the outlines of his legs, Stephen even assumed he was skinny. Stephen would have liked to put a hand on Ayve’s thigh to receive a more accurate impression but people were moving through the corridor and he wasn’t sure whether this was such a good idea in public. Instead Stephen seized Ayve’s hand again, which was still covered by the soft woollen glove, and placed it gently between both of his hands. That caught Ayve’s attention.

He turned to give Stephen a small but warm smile.

“It’s nice to see you in lighter colours for a change,” Stephen tried to find something harmless to say.

Ayve’s gaze drifted to the stewardess who just shut the hatch. Then it turned back to Stephen. He loosened his hand and drove it gently through Stephen’s hair. He had let it grow again since that would be more comfortable in winter, so it was somewhere in between his short haircut and the luxuriance of hair he’d had in his twenties. Long enough to trigger Ayve’s soft spot for fumbling in it. The two merely gazed at each other.

The flight took over eleven hours. In the documents Ayve had left behind with his letter, a hotel stay in Shanghai was mentioned. Stephen figured that was the right thing to do. They’d be groggy enough due to the jetlag, they had no need to add up to that by making the journey exhaustive.

And he really did not mind exchanging a day or two in the cold mountains to a stay in a warm hotel bed. With Ayve. Who knew whether they’d have the opportunity to live out their love life once they were in the company of Ayve’s people?

And Stephen so longed for this exchange of intimacies. He’d not had this kind of physical contact for weeks. Ayve had a talent to starve him on this. The average person might expect the love life of a homosexual couple to be lived out more frequently. After all: they were both males and should therefore have a similarly strong drive towards sex. No monthly break, no headaches… But Ayve was worse than any touchy woman (not that Stephen had made such negative experience with women, he had had a good hand to pick the down to earth kind of lady and had of course respected her wishes): not only did he reduce their ‘contacts’ to something like once a month, he also made those few occasions so memorable that it was even harder to go through the remaining thirty or so days that he indulged in absence.

Did his nymph-nature become manifest in this? Was this in some way his form of being less sexually active? Stephen had not been able to detect any decline of enthusiasm when they had shared more than one time ‘together’ in a row or even – as in that one December – spent a whole week in each other’s company.

No, Ayve’s constant absence had nothing to do with his sexuality. It was solely caused by certain other commitments he undoubtedly had. Stephen still was not completely filled in to Ayve’s daily life but he guessed that those long intervals of absence originated often in visits to his people. If he was their leader and responsible for rituals and the like, he was bound to spend great parts of his life with them. Though Stephen was quite sure that there were other parts in Ayve’s life he had no clue about yet. It truly was a challenge for Stephen to remain patient and wait until Ayve laid things open.

*
Since Ayve had written that the hotel room was booked on his name, Stephen retrieved the key from the reception. Together they made their way to the elevator and went up to the third floor, through a long, artificially lighted corridor and finally into their room.

They dumped their bags and Stephen dropped onto the bed whereas Ayve disappeared into the bathroom. After a few moments, Stephen fought down his exhaustion and followed Ayve.

Ayve stood in the small room resting his hands on the wash table, looking into the mirror. He eyed Stephen as he stepped through the door behind him in the reflection. Stephen embraced him from behind, his hands moving over Ayve’s stomach, his eyes peering over Ayve’s shoulder to see Ayve’s face in the mirror. “You haven’t voiced a word all day,” Stephen annotated. Ayve stayed unmoved.

Stephen’s hands moved lower. He unbuttoned Ayve’s trousers and shoved them apart so he could slip one hand inside. The feel of cotton. Had he infected him with a fondness for underwear? Stephen stroked softly over the fabric. The response was immediate. Ayve’s member sprang to life and his owner closed his eyes, breathed deeply and tilted his head back slightly in sign of enjoyment.

Stephen slipped his other hand under Ayve’s sweater. The feel of warm skin. Tender but not as smooth as Stephen was used. Yes: there definitely were more scars. He felt Ayve’s body tense when his fingertips discovered those lines. They must be more considerable if Stephen could feel them like this.

“You are nervous, right?”

Ayve backed further into Stephen’s body.

Stephen grasped beneath the cotton and felt the hot, hard, ready flesh in his palm. “I love you, Ayve,” he whispered reassuringly into Ayve’s ear.

Ayve opened his eyes and met Stephen’s gaze in the mirror with an expression of trust and passion and something else Stephen failed to determine. His hand reached behind them, was placed on his bottom and forced Stephen’s loins closer to him.

“Why don’t you say anything?” Stephen demanded calmly.

Ayve held his gaze a little longer, then he turned slowly around so Stephen had enough time to release his grasp. Ayve rested his hands on Stephen’s chest and looked at him with an unfathomable expression. Then suddenly he started to lift his sweater, now clearly carrying a look of discomfort. He dragged it over his face - his chest already visible to Stephen - looked down for another moment and lifted his head then.

“That’s why,” he mouthed.

Stephen fought to keep his face neutral. He knew that Ayve did not take delight in this moment and he did not want to make it worse. Two thick, flesh-coloured scars sat on his neck, across his throat. Not to speak of those others that enveloped the whole of Ayve’s body in a net of lines of different lengths and thickness. Some were fading, others looked as if they never would.

Stephen hesitantly laid a hand on him that covered the side of Ayve’s neck and the lower part of his cheek. Reluctantly he kissed the scarred flesh and drew a line from there to Ayve’s lips. His eyes met the calm grey depth of Ayve’s. His face was quite relaxed now.

“Are you telling me your voice was permanently damaged?” he asked in a whisper.

Ayve nodded. He played with Stephen’s hair again.

Everything that was necessary to live healed with time but my vocal cords apparently had no interest in moving along.

Stephen could hear the explanation in his mind. It was Ayve’s voice (or what he knew to be Ayve’s voice) but it was plain to him that it was only in his head. No false pretences this time. No echoing of the sounds from the bathroom walls the way his own words reverberated, no lip movement.

Ayve smiled at him, reassuring that there was nothing to worry about. His thumb caressed Stephen’s earlap. I’m okay. I’ve come to terms with this long ago. The only reason why I’m hiding this is because I don’t like to draw attention to myself, not for this reason. And I wanted you to figure out the basics before I started communicating with you this way. Of course I worried about your reaction but there is nothing you have to worry about in return now. I’m fine.

A part of Stephen wanted to pull Ayve into a tight embrace now, just forget everything for a moment. Another part called for a strong drink. Stephen guessed he could have both – preferably in reversed order. He gave Ayve a weak smile and went to find the mini-bar. He could only hope that Ayve had taken to reading his mind again and did not misunderstand his reaction.

Stephen poured himself a wee dram (a small glass of whiskey) and sank down into one of the not very comfortable armchairs in the small hotel room, all kinds of memories flooding his brain in fractions. Sounds from the shower came out of the bath. Normally he would have been tempted to join Ayve in there but he felt horribly tired and exhausted all of a sudden. Yes, he still longed for Ayve’s touch but more in a manner of just holding him, at the moment. The whole confusion that went along with everything that constituted Ayve was overwhelming him right now.

The whiskey left a warm trail as it travelled down his gullet and settled in his stomach. He closed his eyes and leaned back, taking measured breaths to calm down. Pictures of the ‘old’ Ayve swam before his inner eye and blended with this ‘new’ Ayve. Snippets of their encounter a few moments ago flickered through his mind. It felt so wrong, so surreal to have touched him in such an intimate way when moments later they had talked about a grave topic like this.

Yeah right – talked! Stephen mentally shook his head.

But he needed to stop those thoughts. He hadn’t known what would be revealed. You had suspicions, you knew there was more to come, he told himself. No, he needed to stop this. He was not responsible for what had happened in Ayve’s past and Ayve had enjoyed his caresses. After all, they still were lovers and it surely had soothed Ayve to see that Stephen still wanted this. Yes, that thought calmed him down slightly. Stephen had every right to touch Ayve like this, Ayve had welcomed it, no matter what was going through his mind otherwise and that they had been facing the topic of Ayve’s passing and its consequences shortly after was an unfortunate coincidence. There was nothing to regret.

There was nothing to regret, Stephen. Calm down.

Ayve exited the bathroom, wrapped in one of the hotel bathrobes. He surveyed Stephen and approached him. His long, wet strands of dark hair fell from his shoulders as he knelt down before Stephen. The few white lines in between them gave Ayve an even more mature look. Ayve looked at Stephen sympathetically, seized his hands, put Stephen’s glass on the table beside him and pulled him into the embrace he had so longed for.

Ayve held Stephen tenderly for what felt like hours. Stephen was so exhausted, he felt like falling asleep right then and there in Ayve’s embrace. It didn’t matter that Ayve knelt before him, it didn’t matter that he sat on the edge of an uncomfortable armchair. All that mattered was that he was held like that and did not have to think about anything. Just for now.

After a while, Ayve made Stephen get up and move over to the bed, where he helped him to take off the upper layer of his clothes and slip under the cover. Reluctantly, he loosened the belt and dropped the bathrobe onto the floor. He wanted to feel Stephen. Needed that silent reassurance that everything was okay between them. And he simply needed to hold on to somebody himself.

This was the first time that he had shown himself to a human in ages. It was the first step to an even more significant ‘first time’. Well, more than one. The first was taking a human to see his people. The second was talking about his life. He’d never done that. The ones that knew some details usually knew that because they had been present when the events had taken place or because they had been told by others about it. Never himself.

And now he was seizing his chance. Or at least that was part of it. ‘I’ve come to terms with it,’ he’d told Stephen. Hm. He surely had learned how to go on. But he doubted he had truly learned how to live with it, his past. He’d merely put those memories into a chest, somewhere back in his mind where he wouldn’t accidentally stumble over them, and hung up black and white pictures of them instead. Harmless copies that wouldn’t hurt but provide him with the necessary information to act accordingly. Fact sheets without the emotions that were adherent to the facts.

Ayve felt he wouldn’t have been able to cope with all the muddy emotions those days had left in him. There were moments when it was plain to see. Every time Pheus got to close to him, for example. Or anybody else. Pheus was just more intense. He needed only seconds to provoke revulsion in Ayve that others had to work a few days or weeks to produce. Ayve hated being cornered, when people wanted too much of him, when they cut back his freedom. When they pressed him.

For some reason that was different with Stephen. Ayve could only take guesses why. Perhaps it had to do with his quiet, kind personality. He was not the man to voice claims on anybody. Stephen always asked what Ayve wanted. He didn’t just decide, he wanted Ayve’s opinion, regarded him even as the deciding one in their relationship. Well, by rights that was Ayve’s role. He was elder, more experienced and more powerful. But he had never played that trump with anybody before. The few lovers he had had, had been unaware of his true nature. He’d been human to them. And so they had treated him as an equal, somebody they could impose their expectations on.

The relationship with Stephen had developed different dynamics. That Stephen had known about him – about his ‘special traits’ - from the start had put Ayve into a different position. Perhaps the fact that Stephen had not attracted his sexual interest in the beginning had added to it as well. Ayve had gotten to know him before any intimacies could complicate the matter. A basic trust that was not rooted in physical attraction had been allowed to build up and gave their relationship a totally new taste.

All in all Ayve felt better about this – thinking long terms - than he had felt about any previous liaison. Both his mind and that strange knot of emotions down there in his abdomen told him that Ayve was in full control of the situation. Of course Stephen had tried to gain influence on their relationship. His feeble, not well thought through attempts had irritated Ayve, had triggered his self-defence mechanisms and made him withdraw. But Stephen had shown the right reaction. He had respected Ayve’s will. Although he had used every opportunity available to approach him, he had never tried to inflict himself on him. The decision had always remained in Ayve’s hands.

And of course Ayve did not want a mindless man at his side. He wanted Stephen to have an own opinion, own views on and ideas for his life, for their possible future. Control did not mean control over Stephen. Control meant control over the situation. Control meant making sure nobody even tried to gain control over Ayve.

Well, that was a thought. He’d hit the mark there, hadn’t he? If Pheus had been less demanding, less dominant… that would at least have solved the internal problems. The ones that caused so much hatred in Pheus. Which would still leave them with just as many external justifications why it just couldn’t be. Ayve had left back then for good reasons…

But back to the young man that was snuggling up against his chest right now and had already dived into the realms of a sound sleep. Ayve had always been in a predicament: he needed the warmth, the physical presence of another person just as every intelligent being did. He hungered for it sometimes. And yet he usually found it difficult to share himself with others because sharing his body usually resolved in sharing the right to decide, it meant being confronted with the expectations of others. And Ayve associated this in turn with being forced to do something that did not correspond with his wishes. His desire for intimacy clashed with his thrive for independence, freedom.

Stephen had somehow managed to bypass this mechanism. He had learned not to push Ayve too much but still evince his affection for him. Ayve still had had to fight with himself, with his impulses to withdraw but due to Stephen’s moderate behaviour they hadn’t been as bad as usual. He had been given the chance to push them aside and finally gain the opportunity to live his yearning for a closer personal relationship out. And Ayve had decided to seize it. Not only to satisfy his immediate physical needs but also to try and work up certain unresolved issues – well, except for that one, he wasn’t willing to bring that up yet – certain issues, whose suppression might prevent him from being a stronger person. He needed to get rid of this fuzz of emotions. This was long since a source of weakness to him and he could not tolerate weakness in himself.

Yet, he was realistic. Ayve knew that it would take time and energy to get through this. Not only on his side. It wasn’t really fair to load his problems onto Stephen’s shoulders. Not that he meant to. He just needed a mirror. Somebody who listened to what he had to say. Stephen had requested this. He had asked again and again to be told more about Ayve. Ayve had no choice but to at least tell him some things. If he were the manipulative type, he’d just lie to Stephen to protect him, keep him blissfully clueless. Ayve knew Stephen would react emotionally on what he’d be told. He was the empathetic type. But Ayve had no wishes to manipulate him. Honesty was one of the key qualities he cherished in people and certainly something he held on to in the few personal relationships he had. He did not lie to people he trusted. And he wanted so badly to be close to Stephen. He had to tell him. And although that would still leave him with the option of giving just a short summary of events – oh, he could think of formulations that would make most of it sound quite okay – something in Stephen encouraged Ayve to seize the chance and drag it all up into the light. Stephen’s thriving to get to know Ayve in detail combined with this soft side of him that silently promised Ayve that Stephen would comfort him when necessary. That was probably the part that let Pheus run rampant. Ayve seeking solace in the arms of a human.

Well, Ayve couldn’t help that. Couldn’t help him in that. He had tried to reason with Pheus. Now it was Pheus’ decision whether he was able to make his peace with this situation. He had to. At least ignore the man on Ayve’s side. That couldn’t be too hard.

It would be hard enough to explain that ‘encounter’ between Pheus and Stephen to the latter. Ayve could only hope that Stephen would be able to handle that. It undoubtedly was hard to swallow. Stephen had been quite tough so far but his reaction now showed Ayve that all the things that had happened between the two of them hadn’t left him unaffected. How could it have? It was good that Ayve had planned to spend a day in Shanghai before they travelled on. That would at least give them a short break to get accustomed to the new situation. There would be plenty of new impressions for Stephen to cope with in the further course of their trip, it was better to handle them as soon as possible. Ayve really didn’t mean to knock him down.

He dragged the cover further up and wrapped his body around Stephen’s.

*

Stephen woke up early next morning. Well, he had awoken several times during the night but he had turned around each time and gone back to sleep. They’d stepped onto the plane at 9:20pm in London and descended the stairs at 15:45am local time in Shanghai yesterday after about eleven and a half hours in the air. He’d dozed off in the plane for a while but without gaining much rest through it and their little ‘chat’ yesterday had added up to his exhaustion so it had not proven to difficult to convince his body to catch some sleep despite the seven hours’ time difference that made it believe that it was still early in the day.

But at six thirty Stephen decided it was better to get up and take a shower than trying to sleep more after having already spent about twelve or thirteen hours (he wasn’t sure) in bed. The warm water was soothing and waked his spirits. His thoughts went back to the man that still lay in the bed. Nothing clear, just that image of him, a desire to take a closer look at him while he was still asleep.

Stephen dried his body off hurriedly and exited the bath naked. The slightly cool tingle from the remains of the water that was evaporating felt good on his skin.

Ayve was lying on his back as Stephen approached him silently and sat down on the edge of the bed. He shoved the blanket aside and smiled as he discovered that Ayve was dressed as much as he was. Stephen hadn’t paid attention to this the previous evening.

Ayve was undoubtedly thinner than he had claimed to be. But skinny as Stephen had called it at first glance wasn’t exactly true. There were muscles in a sufficient amount and shape to make him quite attractive. Matching his slim shape but still masculine, sportive. Yet there didn’t seem to be much else. A few pounds more wouldn’t have been wrong.

What Stephen truly pondered about were those scars. They could hardly originate from a single incident. There were too many. And some looked as if someone had taken his time and enjoyed the process of making them. He let his fingers run over Ayve’s skin: his belly, his chest, his neck, his shoulder, over the soft curves of Ayve’s upper arm and down his lower arm to his hand. He turned it and saw why Ayve had worn those gloves: there were several scars, too. A few long streaks came down from his lower arm and ended on the back of his hand and a few shorter cuts – well, that was Stephen’s theory of what they were – went crosswise on his wrist.

Stephen covered Ayve again and dressed. He’d go down and check when breakfast was available. He needed a bit more time to think about everything. Something in him shifted: the view on Ayve. That was not directly connected to his physical change. It was a shift in Stephen’s perception of Ayve’s personality. He’d always looked up to him as a strong, experienced man that knew exactly what he wanted and made no compromises. Not that this wasn’t part of Ayve anymore. But there was a set of layers beyond this. Stephen had first glimpsed them on that beach. Or had he? Hadn’t he seen them far earlier? Back then in Belfast, that ‘morning after’ when Ayve had been in such a strange mood? Or the month later when they’d met in Edinburgh and Ayve had tried to explain his ‘moods’? Suddenly there were so many things that made… *sigh* well, at least a little more sense now under this light: his strange exit in Venice after Stephen’s 25th birthday when they’d discussed Ayve’s past, his vulnerability, melancholy, when he reappeared unheralded in Edinburgh the next March, Ayve’s hurt pride when Stephen seemed to consider him capable of hurting other people… it all had indicated that there was more going on inside of Ayve than he let on but Stephen had not been able to tell what. Ayve had left him in the dark.

And now Stephen would get to know what was hidden behind the mask of ‘Ayve, the Inapproachable’. It scared him a little. Where would that leave them? Would he be able to cope? Would he still feel the same for Ayve? Or would his story estrange him? And since Ayve had hinted that he might need a strong shoulder to lean on in the process: would Stephen be able to provide him with the necessary support? How could he help Ayve if he – a person definitely much stronger than Stephen - hadn’t been able to master this so far? Was he really the right choice in this?

This was madness, wasn’t it? And yet he’d take the risk. He didn’t wish to let Ayve down. He couldn’t. And this probably was the only way for them to go anyway. He wouldn’t be able to live with Ayve’s strange behaviour if he didn’t know the reasons for it. They had to deal with this. Aye himself had said he was incapable of reaching his feelings, pinpointing his feelings for Stephen as long as they hadn’t worked this out. It had to happen.

When Stephen returned from his little stroll, Ayve had gotten up and dressed as well. They went down to breakfast together just as the buffet was opened. They collected the food that they wanted and went to sit at a table in a corner.

So silent? Ayve asked, trying to catch Stephen’s gaze that was locked on his plate. He took Stephen’s hand and caressed it with his thumb. Having second thoughts?

Stephen looked up at him. “No,” he replied calmly. “No, I’m just a little overwhelmed by everything…”

Ayve gave him a good-natured smile. He stirred his yoghurt in silence.

Stephen gazed at the food Ayve had selected: a big cup full of fruit yoghurt, a few slices of apple and peach and a blank piece of toast. “Not hungry?”

Ayve smiled again. He seemed a little hesitant to answer. My stomach is a bit weak, he admitted. I’ve treated myself to good food when I was with you – and if you’d cared to monitor my eating habits you’d have noticed that I never entirely cleared my plate then – but I’m better advised not to overdo it.

“Is that why you are so thin?”

Ayve still held Stephen’s hand. A part of it. Additionally, it’s not exactly that food flies into my mouth when I live with my people…

“So I can look forward to losing the few spare pounds that unnerve me lately?” Stephen said to lighten up the atmosphere. In truth he had been working out the last few weeks to be up to the amount of physical strain their trip might bring. So he had improved his shape already.

He felt Ayve’s leg move against his and rest there. We should go into the city and send your daughter a postcard. It’s better to send some on our way since you’re hardly going to be able to contact her once we’ve arrived, Ayve annotated. Maybe you should call her in the evening.

Stephen nodded. He tightened his grip on Ayve’s hand.

*

They spent two or three hours in the city, writing the aforementioned postcard and taking a walk. Stephen wanted to buy something for Lissy but Ayve reasoned that it would be better to do that on their way back because it would only be an unnecessary addition to what they’d be carrying and there would be better, more unique things for Stephen to obtain than what they’d find in Shanghai.

Despite the early hour they bought some food to take back to the hotel for lunch.

There had been something like a silent agreement that they would turn back to their hotel room to spend some time in privacy.

As soon as they’d entered the room, Ayve had deposited the food that was wrapped in tin foil to stay warm and taken off his shoes, Stephen slipped his hands under Ayve’s sweater, pressing his body against Ayve’s from behind as he explored his warm skin. He was quick to help Ayve out of that woollen textile that separated them and get out of his clothing himself.

When they had gotten rid of their clothes, he kissed Ayve wildly, longingly and pushed him towards the bed in the process. Ayve yielded willingly. He fell across the bed and Stephen climbed on top of him. More rough kissing.

“You actually like it when I take the initiative, huh?” Stephen murmured in between.

He’d always been the more active man in that part of their relationship. And now he wanted to know how this new Ayve tasted and felt on his skin and smelled and what it sounded like when he came. Even without a voice.

He felt Ayve’s hand close around his erect penis that was dangling between his legs as he was positioned over the slightly taller man like a wild cat over its prey (he liked that image somehow, that’s how he felt at this moment) and he moaned in surprise as the pleasure of the touch flooded his veins. He still clung to Ayve’s lips as if his life depended on it.

Ayve meanwhile explored his body with his spare hand. His fingertips played with Stephen’s nipple for a moment, drawing small circles, sending light sensations through him, and moved on then over his belly. The small hairs Stephen had there tingled under the touch. It had been too long. And all the while Ayve’s other hand moved up and down on his erection, wandered to his testicles for a few seconds and then went back to its task of making Stephen’s hips move in passion. The unoccupied hand moved along Stephen’s side to finally settle on his round bottom and knead it.

Stephen broke loose from the kiss. “Ayve…,” he panted. “If you go on like this I’m gonna lose it in a few moments!”

Ayve grinned. We have all day. But his hand betrayed his words and let go of Stephen’s arousal.

Stephen sank down beside Ayve and started exploring his body in turn. Ayve held his eyes shut while Stephen took his time to outline the muscles on Ayve’s arms, the delicate looking curves of his collarbones, the line that went down from them over his chest to the navel…

Stephen bent down to softly kiss Ayve’s nipples. They were so hard and smooth to the touch of his lips and tongue. Stephen’s nose drew a line over Ayve’s skin as Stephen lifted his head and sought Ayve’s face. He placed a few soft kisses on Ayve’s cheek while his hand found Ayve’s erection and caressed the hard flesh softly, slowly circling his glans.

When Stephen pressed his lips on Ayve’s and opened his eyes to see the expression in Ayve’s face, he looked right into the depth of those grey eyes while his hand was coated with the wetness of Ayve’s precum. It was a strangely intense feeling, locking eyes in such an intimate moment, when Ayve was completely surrendering himself to Stephen’s touch.

“Wait, don’t move,” Stephen breathed as he managed to pull off his gaze and gathered what they needed to proceed. He took the condom out of its wrapping and handed it over to Ayve. With this sort they did not need additional lube in the beginning, they had determined.

Stephen crawled over Ayve once more, spreading his legs wide and bending down to resume their kiss. His heart pounded wildly in anticipation as he felt Ayve’s finger on his anus.

It wouldn’t take much longer. It was only the amount of relaxation that determined how much preparation was necessary to make it enjoyable for both of them, Stephen had learned. And oh, was he relaxed right now. He wanted it so badly. Ayve’s finger in him was already pure bliss. He breathed his excitement into his kiss.

After a short while he pushed Ayve’s hand away to signal that he didn’t want to wait any longer. He took the tube of lube, shared a bit with Ayve and covered Ayve’s arousal with it himself whereas Ayve applied his share to Stephen’s back. Then Stephen lowered himself onto Ayve, rendering his penis a helping hand and felt the heat rising to his face as Ayve entered him. His hands shook.

He put them on Ayve’s chest to support himself and started to move deliberately, the hips of the man under (and in) him moved along, his hands enclosed Stephen’s upper thighs. They locked eyes. The intensity of Ayve’s gaze was paralyzing. Stephen licked his lips in remembrance of the kiss they’d shared.

Ayve smiled, lifting his arm tranquilly and touching Stephen’s mouth with his fingertips. Stephen’s tongue moved out instinctively to lick them. Ayve flashed a second smile, then ran his fingers over Stephen’s cheek and down to his chest. His skin tickled under the soft touch. When Ayve pressed Stephen’s navel that sent another wave of pleasure through him.

Stephen finally closed his eyes and moved faster. He felt Ayve’s hand close around his penis once more and knew that he was close. All that mattered now was the rhythm of their bodies moving against each other, the tightness with which Ayve held on to his arousal, the mightiness of the feeling of Ayve inside him. In and out, so hot, so… never stop…! More… He loved it when his butt collided with Ayve’s thighs that were slightly angled. He loved Ayve’s thumb moving over the opening of his glans. Goodness.

He lay beside Ayve, his body pressed against him, still panting, dreaming, floating somewhere beyond the realms of reality… Ayve, being close to Ayve, that was all that counted. There were trails of tears on his cheeks. His body trembled. He moved to get even closer to Ayve. That movement was enough to send another wave of warmth through him.

He felt Ayve move and moaned in protest. Ayve undid the cover of the bed, shoved his arms under Stephen and lifted him to put him properly into bed. Stephen chuckled despite his hormone-flooded state. He wouldn’t have thought he could be lifted this easily. He surely weighed something like sixty-five to seventy kilos.

Ayve joined him under the coverlet and Stephen immediately drew him close again. Their wet, sticky members came into contact. They were still sensitive. Ayve smiled and looked down. He touched Stephen’s penis with a single fingertip. Isn’t that strange? He asked with a contemplative tone in his (mental) voice.

Stephen’s voice was cracking as he spoke. “What?”

That something like that can affect us so much… It’s just a bit of physical contact, two small areas of our bodies rubbing against each other and we’re losing our senses, our will, everything… I suppose that’s why my people are never doing it…

“Why wouldn’t they want that?” It was hard for Stephen to dive out of the realms of drowsiness he had drifted into but he sensed that this was a good opportunity to learn more about Ayve.

My people ascribe great importance to rationality, predictability. Spontaneous outbursts of emotion are highly scorned. Something as primitive, as much lead by basic instincts as this is improper. They don’t even touch from a certain age on.

Stephen frowned. “But that’s neglecting one of your basic needs – touching, I mean. I’ve once heard about an abhorrent experiment the Germans conducted in the Second World War: a scientist provided babies with food and warmth and the like but they weren’t touched with bare skin or spoken to. They died because of the neglect of their psychical needs for contact with other living beings.”

Ayve smirked. You needn’t tell me. I know. What it’s like not to have that. Ayve snuggled up to Stephen.

“But when you say ‘they never do it’ you can hardly mean never. I mean: you have to reproduce,” Stephen annotated.

Well, yes, they do, Ayve answered, his mouth resting on Stephen’s forehead. But it’s all one big ritual. There is no passion involved. No spontaneity. It’s all choreographed. The arousal is evoked through the consummation of certain herbs. It’s not comparable to the closeness, the intimacy we share.

“Could they do this? I mean, physically: are they capable?” Stephen corrected himself: “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. Of course they can.” He mentally slapped himself. He had the living proof that they could in his arms!

Stephen felt a smirk against his forehead. It’s not that stupid. I would love to ask Seya whether he’s run out of his tea at some point and what that did to his body…

Stephen was puzzled. “But what about you? You obviously are capable of performing the act…” He thought on. “You still havened explained to me why Seya said nymphs weren’t able to share bed with humans but you’re lying here with me…”

Stephen felt Ayve breathe out heavily. There was a short silence. Ayve played with a strand of Stephen’s hair. I am not a purebred nymph.

Stephen lifted his head to look at Ayve in wonder. “But you are their leader!?”

Ayve closed his eyes for a second. This was obviously not easy on him.

Stephen placed a hand on Ayve’s cheek in compassion.

I wouldn’t be if my father hadn’t stood up for me. Another pause.

Stephen pressed his lips to Ayve’s cheek. “Tell me.”

Ayve looked around. Let’s get clean and dressed. Then I’ll tell you.

***