William stops him, reaching out a hand. “It’s good. You can show me later. In private.” The word comes loaded. “Where we can talk better.”
The man nods. Sips his wine. His eyes are dark and William didn’t expect that. He knows about the man and his role, what he does, how he blends in.
But he doesn’t know what the man’s demons are and everyone has demons.
Everyone.
Including him.
Isaac
In my dream I’m back on an island where the sun is blazing down and the sea is the colour of sapphires. There’s no sound other than the sea, and that includes the words from the two people who are near me talking.
Their mouths are moving and there are sentences coming out. I know they’re laughing and happy but I can’t hear what they say, even when they talk to me. They have their own private universe and I’m not party to it.
Blair is one of the people. She wears a white bikini, her skin tanned and smooth, flecks of water from the sea dripping from her. Her hand reaches out to touch me, but she’s always just too far away and can’t reach. The other person is Ben, his body painted with tattoos and there’s a new one, just above his heart.
A crown.
One decorated with three jewels. Emeralds.
I ask him about it because I haven’t seen it before. It isn’t a new tattoo; it’s healed and fits with the rest of the ink that I’ve trailed my tongue over. But my words aren’t heard. Neither of them know I’m speaking and I’m left sitting there on the sand, frustrated.
Left out.
They run into the sea, holding hands, but they never come out again.
I’m left there on the white sand, underneath the warm sun, on my own because they’re a pair of swans that have mated for life and I’m just as I’ve always been.
Loner. Different. The boy who never really fitted in.
I’m still on the beach when the sun sets and because it’s a dream, it happens all too quickly. I’m still on the beach and alone.
Watching.
* * *
I wake with Blair’s limbs tangled around mine, her body naked and warm. She’s lying face down on top of my leg which is now dead, but I’m aware of the heat from between her legs and the hardness of my cock.
Last night was the first time I’ve seen her for more than a week, a secret meeting in a secret room which only Micky knew about. We didn’t speak for the first hour. Sometimes what is written on the body is a more powerful dialogue than any talking and I wrote everything I needed to tell her on her skin. Every kiss, lick, bite and it was only just enough.
Blindfolds and ties, my hand instead of a paddle. It was my name she called when she came and me she clung onto when she came and her hands were finally free.
Now, here, in the weak morning glimmer, it doesn’t seem enough.
I place a hand on her ass, holding her to me, and slowly move her off my leg, arranging our limbs so I can hold her.
I don’t do what I feel like right now but I’m doing it anyway. Finding a lover or a fuck has never been an issue. Keeping them was never something I optioned for. Too much entanglement wasn’t necessary; I didn’t want the commitment of a family, of someone who was dependent on me and I didn’t want to be dependent on them.
Except now I don’t want to let go of the woman who sleeps in my arms and hasn’t just written on my skin, she’s branded it.
Her eyes flutter open and it’s suddenly brighter in the small hotel room where we’ve hidden, a place where knights and kings and presidents have all taken sanctuary because here your secrets are guarded by another’s.
“’Zac.” My name is whispered by her lips. “It’s light.”
Which means it’s later than either of us need because winter still holds power.
“We both needed sleep.” I move a hand to brush her hair out of her face.
