Nymphaea

Chapter 9: Normality?

Stephen had waited ever since the Welsh Open had ended in the middle of February. At the end of the month, he had tried to call Ayve, only to hear what he had known already – that Ayve was not available. Stephen cursed him, even cursed himself for pushing Ayve this far. Had he only kept his mouth shut after Ayve had requested that he leave everything beyond this certain time span undiscussed!

It was the tenth of March when Stephen exited the building of the Snooker club in Edinburgh and took the key out of his trouser pocket. It was still freezing cold and his breath was visible when he passed a lantern as he went towards the dark side street where his car was parked. He was the only one around, although it was merely about nine pm.

As he approached his car, he noticed that someone was leaning against it. Arms crossed, dark mantle, face turned towards the cold wind, eyes closed – Ayve.

Stephen went up to him hurriedly, seized him and pressed him to his body. Relief spread in him as he held the man who was wrapped tightly in his thick mantle. “You…,” Stephen gasped, scanning his mind in vain for the right words to express the anxiety he had felt.

“I’m exhausted, Stephen,” Ayve whispered into his ear. “Can’t we just find a nice hotel room where I can doze off in your arms?”

Stephen looked into his face. Ayve’s eyes fought hard against weariness. Stephen kissed him on his lips. “Okay, get in. I know where we can go.”

Stephen drove to another part of the town. Ayve lay comfortably in the seat beside him, his eyes closed but his hand resting on Stephen’s thigh. How he loved these small intimacies that made him feel that they really were in a serious relationship, no matter how fragile it sometimes appeared.

He rented a room for them and took Ayve by the hand, leading him. He opened the door, and Ayve entered, immediately taking off his mantle and shoes and falling onto the bed. Stephen watched him. He sat down beside Ayve and started unbuttoning his shirt. When he had finished, Ayve held his hands out for Stephen to open his wristbands, eyes still closed. They grinned.

"It feels good to be pampered," Ayve whispered encouragingly.

Stephen was glad to do him that favour. Ayve lifted his upper body just enough so that Stephen could take of the shirt. He kissed Ayve’s neck.

Ayve crawled to the other side of the bed. “Let me sleep, Stephen,” Ayve pleaded, dragging the cover over his body, turning to the side.

Stephen undressed and lay down beside Ayve, snuggling up to his back, Ayve’s long black hair the only thing between them. “Why do you always run around like a stray cat, why not stay with me?” Stephen asked softly.

“Because there are things that need to be done,” Ayve murmured, before he pulled the coverlet over his head.

When Stephen woke up the next morning to the alert of his mobile phone, Ayve lay peacefully to his left. Stephen bent over him, kissed his face, and felt his glossy hair. It was so good to hear his even breathing, feel the warmth of his body.

Stephen decided to leave him asleep, allowing him further rest from whatever he had been doing lately. Stephen would work all day anyway so there was no point in waking Ayve up now. After he had taken a shower, he wrote a message for Ayve. Of course, it said that Ayve should wait for him; that Stephen would try to meet him in the late afternoon if he found the time.

He found the time. When he opened the door, a cool breeze enveloped him. The window stood wide open, the curtain moved in the wind. The whole room was adapted to the outside temperature. Nonetheless, Ayve was lying on his belly, only loosely covered, his back completely exposed to the coolness. His grey eyes looked dozily up to Stephen. He smiled.

“Aren’t you frozen?” Stephen asked gently, moving over to Ayve, still in his mantle, touching his cool skin, placing a soft, warm kiss on Ayve’s shoulder.

Ayve only moved his head slightly to indicate that he was fine.

“Have you eaten anything yet?”

Another small movement that told Stephen no, he hadn’t.

Stephen bent over Ayve, rubbing his cheek against Ayve’s. Ayve’s hand enclosed the other side of Stephen’s face, feeling the stubbles of a beard that had grown there since Stephen had not had a razor that morning. However, Ayve didn’t complain. His movements rather hinted that he liked the touch.

Stephen shoved his hand under Ayve’s shoulder and made him slowly turn around. He removed a strand of long black hair to see the big grey eyes gazing tranquilly at him. His fingertips felt the smooth skin of Ayve’s lips. Closing his eyes, Ayve lifted his head. His tongue licked hot over Stephen’s rough chin, wetted his lower lip. A small shiver was running down Stephen’s spine. The only thing audible was their breath when Ayve’s lips closed over Stephen’s and opened again to give way for Ayve’s tongue that softly penetrated Stephen’s mouth. Stephen sighed feeling Ayve’s fingertips graze the back of his neck oh-so slightly. He felt his nipples harden.

Just then, Ayve’s stomach gave out a loud sound of protest. They laughed. “Pizza?” Stephen suggested. “Okay,” Ayve replied in a whisper, eyeing Stephen’s lips, gently kissing them once more, before he sank back into the pillows.

Stephen shut the window and took the keys. He had seen a pizzeria just a block away, it was easiest just to go and fetch the food himself.

When he returned, Ayve was sitting upright on the bed, watching a BBC-report on TV. Stephen joined him and they put their pizza cartons on their laps. He only ate half of his portion, explaining that he had an exhibition soon and it was never good to play with a full stomach.

Having put aside his meal, he leaned on Ayve’s shoulder. Ayve’s arm rested around him; he sat simply enjoying being with him in such a common situation. A pair of lovers sitting in front of the TV, eating pizza. He had to keep himself from laughing.


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