Our meal is quiet, my father’s nose in his workbook, my mother seemingly preoccupied with missing her sister. Catherine, of course, is absent, not allowed to share food with the rest of us. Is she not family? Does she not deserve to eat at the table considering all she does for us?
By the time the sky is dark, I feel nearly ill. It’s in my head; I know it is. But I don’t understand the motives of men. Greed and pride and malice, even, to stand atop the weak in order to feel strong.
What would happen if those at the bottom stood up? The thought nearly has me laughing. Surely, the men up high would topple.
I wait until the house has drawn quiet before slipping out the window. My letters are tucked safely within my waistcoat, a sack of food in one hand and a lit oil lamp in the other. It’s a risk bringing it with me, but I chance it this once. The trek feels infinitely long tonight, my desire to see Abraham seeming to put me further and further away from him. But finally, finally, I crest the hill.
He’s there, as I knew he would be, standing beside the creek. I don’t realize at first that there are tears tracking down my cheeks. I feel them once I start to move swiftly down the hill, the wind cool against the moisture on my skin. I couldn’t care less. Abraham meets me at the bottom, and I don’t stop or think. I set down the oil lamp, drop my other possessions to the ground, and the moment warm palms bracket my neck, all the noise, all the worry and anger and unease…it melts away.
Abraham’s lips meet mine, and it feels like falling. Wearefalling, I realize a second too late. He lands on top of me, the both of us grunting at the impact before laughing. His mouth presses to mine again, his body blanketing me, warm and strong and secure.
“Jasper.” His voice is but a whisper, his thumb rolling over my cheek. He does it again, wiping away my tears as the curves of his lips brush mine.
“Don’t stop,” I beg of him, pulling him into another kiss, wondering if I could tie us together, never to be parted again.
The world makes sense when Abraham is near.
A soft rumble leaves his mouth, his body rubbing against mine in a way I’m not expecting. I gasp, hardening in my breeches at the touch. He does it again.
“A-Abe,” I manage.
He rocks against me once more, his lips on my jaw and then my neck. “Do you wish for me to stop?”
Do I?
“No,” I say at once, my head going dizzy, my breath coming short as I feel his hardened prick pressing insistently against my hip.
His mouth finds mine again, full of passion and reassurance both. It seems to pain him to pull back, and I don’t care for it either. Not when I told him to stay. His absence leaves me cold, but his voice is gentle.
“Come. I know of somewhere private we can go.”
Abraham offers his hand, and I don’t know where he intends to bring me, but I trust him implicitly. So I accept his help in standing, pick up my things, and follow him through the dark.
The babble of the creek quiets as we walk for only a minute or so along the edge of the woods. Abraham passes between two trees, waiting to make sure I’m at his heel before guiding me a handful of steps further. The light from my lamp illuminates the edges of a manmade structure. My shoe thunks against a lone wooden board as I follow Abraham through the open doorway. Shadows darken the small hovel, the rooflong since having fallen away. I look up at the stars before Abraham’s voice beckons me.
“Here.”
I set the oil lamp down in the corner of the room before joining him. There’s a roughly woven blanket spread out on the dirt floor, as if waiting for us.
Did Abraham put it here?
His fingers trace my cheek lightly as I settle beside him, the touch like sparks. “Jasper. How I’ve missed you.”
“Have you really?” I ask, relief making me nearly weak. I tug him closer, wanting his body over mine again. He comes easily, settling against me, just as it should be. “I missed you terribly. I don’t want to be away from you again, Abraham.”
He lets out a breath, his face tucked to the side of mine before he lifts his head, his lips finding my own. His kiss is both sweet and ragged, hard edges tempered by the fondness I know he must feel for me. He must. Otherwise he wouldn’t kiss me so.
I don’t know how to ask Abraham to continue what he started before, but I must not need to with words. He spreads my legs wider with his hips, pressing me to the ground, the weight and friction of him bringing me to life quicker than my own hand has ever managed. I hardly know what to do with it, not having ever been aroused in close proximity to another person before.
Abraham kisses me as he rolls against my prick, stealing the breath from my lungs. His fingers thread through my hair, his voice quiet. “Jasper. Have you lain with men?”
My pulse is thready as I answer him. “I have not lain with anyone.”
He’s quiet for only a moment, half of his face illuminated in flickering light. “Would you allow me to touch you?”
“Yes, but I… I don’t know how…”
He shushes me gently, his lips on mine. “Allow me.”
