horseboykarl

Today we're going in to Montalcino, to look at some architecture and wander around.
The castle is old and mellow.

Twenty hours in a plane. From one side of the world to the other. From spring to fall. I haven't had to do this heaps, usually start from LA before I head to Europe, but this time it's for fun. And it wasn't so bad. Sean and I spent the whole time talking. It started out with my efforts to distract Sean from the idea that he's on a bloody plane, but it soon turned into a long rambling chat about everything under the fucking sun. Our plans, our hopes, things we'd done and seen, things we want to do in Italy, and a few filthy suggestions made in a rough Yorkshire accent that made me whimper with need.

The plane landed almost before we knew it, but the car ride into the hills was too much for me, and I slumped in the seat, using Sean's shoulder for a pillow. The movement stopping woke me up and I sit up rubbing my eyes. It's dark, and I've got no fucking idea what time it is. Dark.

But there's an immense expanse of stone and rough-hewn wood, I can see that much. And there's Sean's warm hand snugged underneath my shirt, rubbing my back. The air is chilly and I shiver, and the hand squeezes, guiding me inside.

( Put a bed under me )