Up and Down (a short story)

I am lying on my back, awake behind half-shut eyes, in bed. He is running his fingers up and down the inside of my thigh. I open my eyes and turn to what i suspect will be Nathan's face smiling at me; but his face is closed. His fingers keep running, up and down the inside of my thigh. Touching me - not just touching me, but caressing me - has become a part of his constitution now. Awake or sleeping, his fingers don't have any choice. As soon as they make contact, they have to start stroking, tracing little pictures over my skin. No one else's fingers have touched so much of me.

As i am lying on my back, awake with open eyes, in bed, watching the sun brighten my room, his fingers chasing themselves up and down the inside of my thigh, i'm also wishing that i were stoned.

I turn my body to face his and his fingers adjust, without so much as a hiccup of confusion, and make their way around my side, up my back and then down and then up, and then down and down, and then up, and then down down down. His fingers tease the edge of the slit between my cheeks. I wonder if i am his marjiuana. Does he wish for my presence when my presence isn't needed? Does he think about giving me up? Does he think he might be better off without me?

Would i be better off without him? When i get stoned, i think, this would be perfect if Nathan were here. Is that true? Or do i get so high that i don't remember anything about him? If i had to pick between the two, i'd definitely choose the boy over the plant. Is that true; if it is, why am i lying on my back, awake, in bed, next to him, his fingers doing their work of memorizing the topography of my body, wishing for a joint?

Maybe i don't wanna get too close to this. Maybe i don't wanna get used to this. If i spend this relationship stoned, i won't grieve as much when it's over, i won't remember as much as he will. He'll reel and rail and sink into depression and i'll be a little bit sad. Beyond the sadness that arrives whenever a thing ends, i'll have nothing. And if my amygdala does spit up a memory, maybe this one, i'll be so far removed that i'll mistake my own memory for that of a sentimental movie i once saw.

I watch the movie of him breathing, sleeping, touching, stroking, running. I watch the movie of my hand crawling around to his back. I hear the soundtrack of his voice say, "Tamar." I breathe under the darkness of blankets and his body; my breath gets hot and i want Nathan. I move closer to him so i can hold him with my whole body and the arch of my foot discovers his calf. The way he's holding me changes and i know he's gotten the point. His fingers expand and then contract over my ass, pulling me even closer to him. I wrap my leg around his waist so that he has an unobstructed path to my sex; he kisses me. At the peak of our kiss, as we begin to exhale together, he is inside me. He makes yummy sounds. I'm gasping for breath and my voice climbs higher than it normally does. Why can't i hit notes like these when i try to sing, i think. After that momentary distraction, my mind comes back to him and i don't wish i were stoned anymore.

He guides me onto my back without falling out, and whispers, "Hi," before he slips down down down. He folds my lips back and licks me on the inside and then lands his tongue on my clit. Slowly quickening circles, around and around as he moans and i moan. I'm gonna come soon and i try to enjoy the path to coming instead of just waiting to come. I remember that he likes doing what he's doing right now; i'll take my time. He's good at what he's doing, sounds like he's eating an especially good meal. He can feel me about to come and right before i do, he stops, pushes himself past my clenching muscles and i come all around him. He holds my arching back and now those slowly quickening circles are around my nipples. I'm screaming his name. He's panting. You know how it is. I hope. He says, "You're so fucking hot." I wonder why he didn't say i love you instead. But i know he loves me; and i love him.

He's inside me and i wish i were stoned.

Afterwards, i am lying on my back, awake, in bed. He's taking a shower. I run my own fingers up and down the inside of my thigh, and wonder why he likes me so much.