I cover Brando's body like a band-aid. I can count how many hours I've known him on two hands, and yet I've shared myself with him in my shower, on an airplane, forty-thousand feet in the sky.
I'm lying on the seat that we've turned into a bed. Brando lies in front of me, his back pressing against my chest and stomach. A flimsy blanket provided by the airline covers our naked bodies.
He rests his head on my bicep and uses one of his hands to gently stroke mine. The light touch is welcome, soothing. I lean in to kiss his hair. He smells of cherries.
Usually my hook-ups end differently. After I've had sex, I usually kick the girl out of bed. Then I kick them out of my place. I can never get them away from me quick enough. I only ever chased the climax, that small window of release, without paying any attention to the build-up or the person I've had sex with or what comes next.
I wrap my free arm around Brando's torso. I don't want him to leave. I don't want to kick him out and never see him again. This feeling is way more than lust, way more than the chase of the climax.
The climax with Brando never ends. It goes on. There's no comedown. The sex itself was incredible, but nothing beats this. I've had sex hundreds of times, but I've never had what is supposed to go with it. The intimacy. The affection. The love.
I never want to separate from his body, to know what it's like to be absent of his touch. It feels like my soul is reaching out of my chest and it's tying itself to him. My soul is stubborn. I know that this is it. I don't need to keep searching for that person to complete me. We fit, like a complicated jigsaw puzzle, finally put together and framed so that it will never be incomplete again.
That voice that tells me this is crazy, that this is too soon, gets smaller and smaller until I can't hear it anymore. Good riddance.
Brando's voice pulls me out from my thoughts. 'Do you remember your first kiss?'
'I do,' I tell him. Our voices are quiet. I begin to hear the music in the background. I had tuned it out for the past five minutes. That's how long we've been lying here in silence. I could have fallen asleep.
'She was a friend of a cousin,' I continue, plucking out the random memory from my head. I've never thought about it, or her, in years. 'I must have been fourteen, she was a year older. I admired her a lot and I would always notice her when I slept over at my cousin's house. One night, she stayed over too. We were all watching a movie and I was sitting next to her. My cousin fell asleep, so we started to make out. My cousin woke up and freaked out. It was pretty funny. I remember being so nervous about kissing her too. I don't think I did it properly.'
'What about your first kiss with a boy?'
'That one's easier to remember, and it was way more special. See, I was drowning my sorrows in alcohol when he storms into the bar and starts shouting over at me,' I say with a grin.
Brando's head turns to look at me. It's the first time we've been face-to-face since lying down. I smile at the image in front of me, our faces close. I inhale his breath.
'Was his name Brando?' he asks me innocently.
'Meh, something like that,' I joke and look away to suppress a laugh. 'Anyway, he plants one on me when I was least expecting it, in front of everyone!'
'Okay, okay, I planted it on him.'
'I was your first kiss with a boy? Did I make you want to go back to women?'
YOU ARE READING
Heart of the Sky | Gay TitanicRomance
[2018 Watty Award Winner] A love story doomed to the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, Brando and Daxten form an unlikely friendship at an airport before falling in love on their ill-fated flight to New York City.