Expressions Of Love
Disclaimer: I don't own these two characters and it is Mog who invented the ATF Universe, thank you so much for that, Mog.
I bury myself a little deeper into the warmth surrounding me, enjoying the tantalizing smell Chris has left. His side of the bed is already empty and cold, as always. There is only one way to keep that man in bed after six a.m. and I need to be awake for that, so I can seduce him to it.
A pity. I do miss waking up beside a partner, hands finding each other in a lazy haze of languidness, both not yet woken up properly to the harsh reality of the new day. But it is only a minor complaint in the light of all he does give me.
Like last night, when he opened his arms for me even though he was already asleep when I arrived at the ranch. It did not stop him from rousing himself enough to pull me towards him, take me inside him, so I could forget the as ever stressful meeting with you, Mother.
You do manage to get under my skin, even after all this time, and he knows it.
When we were both sated and fulfilled I told him again, how could I not, how much I love him. He smiled at me, brushed away a lock of my hair and gave me one of those kisses that never fail to take my breath away, because they are so tender, so full of... love.
'Has he ever told you he loves you?' you asked me yesterday, in yet another attempt to get me away from him.
Has he ever told me? Oh, Mother!
I close my eyes and let the memories of last night wash over me. How Chris had tried to stay awake for me, evident in the fact he was still in the den, fully clothed on the couch, his book fallen on the floor beside him. I know what a stressful week it was for him at work, how short his nights have been and the mere fact he tried filled me with a deep warmth. Then there was the guilt on his face when he woke up while I was arranging a blanket over him, and his immediate rousing himself from sleep to pull me into his arms.
"Meant to stay awake."
He didn't question my need for the sex to be a bit rough; he simply opened up for me.
I get hard just thinking about it.
'Is there even something more than sex between you two?' was your next barb. That was when I walked out on you and no, I do not care in the least I left you with the bill to settle.
I do have to shake my head at this last remark from you, though. As if all Chris and I do is roll around in bed together.
Last night, afterwards, he held me and let me pour out all my tangled emotions about my evening with you, about you. When I finally ran out of words, he stood up from the couch and went to make me some hot chocolate. He knows I sleep better on it and I have to confess, I did nothing to stop him. Sometimes I do like getting pampered. But all I really needed was what he gave me later on, in bed. His arms around me, holding me while I fell asleep.
I have slept deep, Mother, dreamless. I didn't do that very often after my encounters with you, not before he and I became lovers.
And now, lying here while the last remnants of sleep leave me, I already know that when I get down to the kitchen I will find the coffee ready, just the way I like it, although Chris prefers his own a lot stronger, almost bitter. I know the heating will be on, even though he finds it nonsense in June.
I probably won't find Chris there. He will be busy with chores, with the horses or some repairs that need to be done. But no matter what he does, as soon as I come near somehow he will sense it. He will turn around and smile that devastating smile, the one that makes my knees go weak, and the moment his chore permits he will walk over to me, in those long, easy strides, his eyes sparkling.
What we will do next depends, Mother. Certainly, on occasion we will immediately go back to bed or to another spot to have some fun. But more often we will discuss what needs be done and do it together. And we will make time for a horse ride through the breathtaking mountains behind his estate, the only thing you like about him, those acres and acres of beautiful land that, yes, are all his.
Whatever we will end up doing, I will talk, of course I will, and Chris will watch me. He will smile at me for things I can only guess at and I know he misses most of what I say, but he never misses the important parts for some reason. It is almost eerie how he will become attentive the moment I start talking about something that does matter to me.
He says it is simple; he hears it in my voice.
He is the opposite of you in this, Mother. You, like most people, focus on my words, on the image I try to project, but he, he focuses on me.
I wonder if you ever think back on the evening we all went to the theatre together, to see if you and he could maybe find a way to get along. And how the next day, when I met you for lunch, you asked if he at least talked a bit more when it was just him and me. When I told you that no, he didn't, you expressed your surprise how I could live day in day out with someone so... dull, someone you couldn't have a sparkling conversation with.
That memory always makes me laugh. Your insincerity makes me laugh.
He could never be dull even if he tried. Neither could his conversations. He says what he deems important and truth be told, it excites me how he makes sure everyone knows exactly what he means. Even you did, Mother. But what I love most about his conversation is the way he conveys his meaning. How it is in his eyes, in the tilt of his head, his smiles, his frowns, how it can be read in the way his body suddenly tenses or relaxes.
He may love watching me talk, I love watching him 'talk' at least as much. It is breathtaking, Mother, purely breathtaking. I know nothing more beautiful.
Has he ever told me he loves me?
Oh, in so many, many ways!
And sometimes, suddenly, he will say it with spoken words as well. A small smile will play around his mouth first, oh God, have you ever seen a more attractive mouth in your life, Mother? Don't worry, I know the answer to that one, I have seen you stare at him. But you will never see the smile I refer to, a smile I know is reserved especially for me, for our moments together, like those moments when he will say it out loud.
"I love you, Ezra".
And I will smile back and be at a loss for any words of my own.
Yes, he can do that to me.
What can I say; he makes me happy, Mother.
And all I care about is to try and do the same for him.
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