I Want You in My Life
Feb. 20th, 2005 09:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarl Sunday again, the only day off Eric has in the week, and we are spending the day together. Eric drove out to my place and I proudly showed him my house and my woods. He met Ire, who spent several minutes of intense sniffing, pretending he was actually a watch dog, before he finally approved of my new friend.
We decide to do some climbing. Eric had learned how when he was in graduate school in California, and had worked up to some of the climbs in Yosemite. I had taken up the hobby in the last few years pretty intensely, but we wanted something relatively relaxing and not too far from Wellie. So we are in my truck on State Highway 1, heading for Titahi Bay, which has some easy to moderate climbs, but it’s only a half hour away. We stop at the ranger station and sign the climbing log. We distribute the gear from the truck and hike down to the beach to the base of the cliff.
I sort out the ropes and clips while he starts rigging his harness. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt because the day is warm. I wrap the straps around my own pelvis and watch in approval as he tightens the straps around his legs, the bright blue nylon showcasing his ass.
“Here, let me check your harness, we’re on the buddy system here.” I test his knots and then slip my fingers under webbing, to see how tight he has it. He makes an odd little sound.
“Then I’d better check yours as well, wouldn’t want to lose a gifted actor to the rocks.” I laugh at his smirk and try to hold still as he runs his hands across my butt.
After few minutes of “checking” which leads to kissing and then more “checking,” he pulls me tight against him and mutters in my ear, “If you keep ‘checking’ I’m going to have to redo this harness, cause it’s getting tight.” And he takes my hand and places it on him to prove the truth of his words. I bite back a moan and kiss him one last time.
We start our climb, my spirits high. I try to ignore the enticing picture he makes, his muscles flexing as he feels for his holds, the small line of sweat dampening his shirt. I try not to imagine how he smells, warm and musky. I slide slightly and drag my attention back where it belongs. Really wouldn’t do to take a fall, not on this easy a climb. Embarrassing. My reach is a lot longer than his, so we end up taking different routes to the top.
Standing on the cliff, looking out over the sea, I realize that the persistent Morgoth-smog doesn’t reach this far out of Wellie and my heart lightens even further. The day is a good one, the air bright and clear. We both have light packs with food and we sprawl on the grass to eat. After, we pick up our trash and put it in the packs and then we sit with our feet dangling over the cliff edge. He leans up against my side and I wrap an arm around him. We talk lazily about nothing much, really, and our conversation gradually fades as we sit peacefully, the ocean wind in our faces and the sun on our sides.
I feel . . . unusual. I want him, but it’s a peaceful sort of want, a knowing that we’re headed for something . . . but we don’t care how long it takes us to get there, we’re enjoying the trip. Contentment, perhaps that’s what I feel. No . . . happiness, I think that’s it. It’s been so long since I’ve felt simple happiness, that I didn’t recognize it when it hit me.
I smile against his hair, the sun has turned his normal brown strands into fire. That’s what he is to me, a gentle campfire to warm my heart. I feel enormously fond of him, I don’t know if this is love, but I want him in my life and I want to be in his.
We decide to do some climbing. Eric had learned how when he was in graduate school in California, and had worked up to some of the climbs in Yosemite. I had taken up the hobby in the last few years pretty intensely, but we wanted something relatively relaxing and not too far from Wellie. So we are in my truck on State Highway 1, heading for Titahi Bay, which has some easy to moderate climbs, but it’s only a half hour away. We stop at the ranger station and sign the climbing log. We distribute the gear from the truck and hike down to the beach to the base of the cliff.
I sort out the ropes and clips while he starts rigging his harness. He’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt because the day is warm. I wrap the straps around my own pelvis and watch in approval as he tightens the straps around his legs, the bright blue nylon showcasing his ass.
“Here, let me check your harness, we’re on the buddy system here.” I test his knots and then slip my fingers under webbing, to see how tight he has it. He makes an odd little sound.
“Then I’d better check yours as well, wouldn’t want to lose a gifted actor to the rocks.” I laugh at his smirk and try to hold still as he runs his hands across my butt.
After few minutes of “checking” which leads to kissing and then more “checking,” he pulls me tight against him and mutters in my ear, “If you keep ‘checking’ I’m going to have to redo this harness, cause it’s getting tight.” And he takes my hand and places it on him to prove the truth of his words. I bite back a moan and kiss him one last time.
We start our climb, my spirits high. I try to ignore the enticing picture he makes, his muscles flexing as he feels for his holds, the small line of sweat dampening his shirt. I try not to imagine how he smells, warm and musky. I slide slightly and drag my attention back where it belongs. Really wouldn’t do to take a fall, not on this easy a climb. Embarrassing. My reach is a lot longer than his, so we end up taking different routes to the top.
Standing on the cliff, looking out over the sea, I realize that the persistent Morgoth-smog doesn’t reach this far out of Wellie and my heart lightens even further. The day is a good one, the air bright and clear. We both have light packs with food and we sprawl on the grass to eat. After, we pick up our trash and put it in the packs and then we sit with our feet dangling over the cliff edge. He leans up against my side and I wrap an arm around him. We talk lazily about nothing much, really, and our conversation gradually fades as we sit peacefully, the ocean wind in our faces and the sun on our sides.
I feel . . . unusual. I want him, but it’s a peaceful sort of want, a knowing that we’re headed for something . . . but we don’t care how long it takes us to get there, we’re enjoying the trip. Contentment, perhaps that’s what I feel. No . . . happiness, I think that’s it. It’s been so long since I’ve felt simple happiness, that I didn’t recognize it when it hit me.
I smile against his hair, the sun has turned his normal brown strands into fire. That’s what he is to me, a gentle campfire to warm my heart. I feel enormously fond of him, I don’t know if this is love, but I want him in my life and I want to be in his.
