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Believe the Very Best
BY: Alicia Greybill*** He awoke slowly, in the dark hours
just before dawn, stretched rather
languidly – and then froze, as his outstretched arm landed not on the cool linen sheets, as it had done every other morning for as long as he could remember, but rather across the very warm chest of his lover. So. It was true, then…the memories of the night that passed. It was so difficult to be sure, just then, in the drowsy contented fog that had settled over him, in the uncertain light that lent credence to the wildest fantasies of a tortured soul. But this had to be real, much more real than his imaginings. His fantasies were never warm, they never breathed, they never…never did half of the things that were surfacing in his memories. His imagination was never that vivid. His hand trailed across his lover's chest – slowly, very slowly, he didn't want to wake him, after all. He thrilled at the feel of his lover's breaths, of the fluttering in his chest of his heartbeat. Oh, yes…yes, this was very real indeed. Very real. His lover stirred, opened one eye, slowly. "Mmm…'lette? Armand?" "Yes," he returned, a bit breathlessly, hoping against hope… that he hadn't managed to upset his lover already, that…he wouldn't drive him away, that… "Mmm," the other man murmured, smiling slowly, closing his eyes once more. "'s early. Back to sleep?" He reached out, pulling the younger man into his arms, holding him close, a small self- satisfied smile on his face. Armand sighed, softly, content to be there, snuggled up against his lover. All was well. It had been very real indeed. Commodore James Norrington, his. It was rather unbelievable, but somehow…it all was real, and it all was true, and it was still a few hours until morning. |
