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under_hatchesTitle: A drabble a day for a month, and then some.
Pairing: Russell/ Paul
Author's notes: Under the cut you will find 35 drabbles. They are linked only by topic and pairing and don't have to be read in chronological order, though I did rearrange them after writing. They're about love. They are also about kisses and sex and maybe a million other things as well.
Disclaimer: Everything under the cut is purely fictional. Nothing is meant to be implied about the persons depicted.
1.
Paul did not see their first kiss coming. He had laughed about some random remark Russell had made and when he had leaned closer to get his glass of wine, Russell had brushed Paul’s thigh as if by accident. Paul had looked down, then up again, and suddenly he was in Russell’s arms, kissing him.
It was meant to be a soft kiss that… well, meant something. It turned out to be hot and desperate. All tongues and teeth. It took him a while to register that Russell did indeed return it with equal vigour. And that meant something too.
2.
He started calling Paul in the evenings. He told himself he was just keeping in touch, or maybe it was the way Paul’s voice sounded when Paul was getting sleepy. Russell imagined Paul sitting on the couch, eyes half closed, the handset of the phone pressed close to his ear. Between talks about their days and work, Russell breathed soundless I love yous and kisses no one could hear. One time he remembered a line from a poem about kissing the phone when having heard the loved ones voice. He agreed but never did kiss it. It seemed too silly.
3.
They developed codes. Going back to the hotel, they’d meet in the room of whoever jingled his keys first. When Russell got out his key card, Paul stepped off one floor early.
“Have a good night,” he said, turning towards his room.
“I will, thanks,” Russell answered, knowing Paul would knock three minutes later.
Shall I order room service translated to Will you stay the night. The brushing off of invisible lints meant I need to pick up spare clothes and might be a tad late.
Kisses as soon as the door closed translated into a million things at once.
4.
Russell didn’t like to send text messages. He preferred calling and hearing Paul’s voice. He couldn’t be arsed to spend ages to type a smallish note saying things Paul knew already and not getting an answer immediately. When he received a message from Paul saying “I will be a day late due to work, I’m sorry, can’t call right now, but I do think about you,” followed by three little crosses, he remembered that crossed were supposed to be kisses while circles were hugs. It made him smile, even though the crosses were nothing like Paul’s lips pressed against his.
5.
Paul had tried not to read anything into looks and touches. He joked about it, the way someone held someone else’s hand a heartbeat longer than necessary or the daft looking, looking away, looking he often saw at parties. Russell’s hand on the small of Paul’s back wasn’t anything but lust. The way Paul licked across the skin of Russell’s neck – lust. Their pressing close, their fumbling, whispering, sweating – lust. The hidden touches – lust, the calls to agree on a place and time – lust. It was the kisses that undid Paul, soft and unexpected. They left nothing open for interpretation.
6.
The back of the club was almost completely dark except when strobe light lit random faces. Couples were focussed on each other, rather than going for the general let’s be seen attitude on the dance floor. The drumming bass went straight to Paul’s groin and he risked a moan. He pressed a little closer to catch the smile on Russell’s face. It was the delicious oblivious half-smile Russell wore when he didn’t care about their surroundings. Paul later thought about it as their first public kiss, though it was semi-public at best, hidden in shadows and among other moving bodies.
7.
In a doomed attempt to make it last, to make it permanent, or at least permanent enough to make it through the next day, kisses turned into biting and nipping. Skin turned bruised and blossomed with red angry welts. Scratches and marks accompanied love bites. All of them cleverly and carefully placed, easily hidden in almost all kinds of weather. They both knew and felt but no one saw.
Paul stood naked in front of the mirror, looking at the aftermath of needy desperation.
Russell pressed his fingers into the small bluish imprints on his hips, wanting them to stay.
8.
Paul had waited patiently in the shade until the sun was low and tired. He brushed the sand of his legs, pulled over a shirt and sauntered over to where Russell was lying. The sea water had bleached Russell’s hair further, draining it of the gold-blondish hints. Russell had moved until he lay prone, spending the last hour with his back towards the evening sun. He looked utterly relaxed and Paul thought he could feel the heat of the day radiating off Russell’s skin. When he carefully placed a kiss on Russell’s shoulder, he was surprised to find it cool.
9.
Sometimes, Russell’s mobile would ring, and when he looked up after answering, he could see Paul walking away, cell phone in hand. Paul laughed into Russell’s ear then, a bit breathless from running.
“How are you, honey?” he would say.
Russell wondered why Paul needed to be close while getting away, but he played along. He liked to think it was for the people within earshot, but really, it was not.
“Lovey, I’m so glad you called. I missed your voice.”
“I’ll hang up if you make kissy sounds,” Paul threatened.
“I’d rather kiss you when I see you later.”
10.
It was like a dance he didn’t know the steps to, Paul thought. This almost dating, this not yet admitting, this maybe maybe not. The what ifs left him stumbling around, not being able to keep up. All the time he was terribly off beat, and got blissfully lost in the forward momentum. Every turn on Russell’s part caused further tumbles, but the rush of it all made up for it. Paul wasn’t prepared for the sudden halt when Russell kissed him goodbye one evening. Everything stands so still when you dance, a song said aptly, everything spins so fast.
11.
Russell cornered Paul between piles of used dinnerware when Paul tried to uncork another bottle of crimson Merlot. He had lost one of his cufflinks sometime during the evening, and his collar hung crooked and creased. After the resonant plop Russell took the bottle from Paul’s hands, placing it aside, and leaning in for a kiss. The laughter from the next room didn’t quite drown Paul’s surprised intake of air, and Russell could taste honey and berries on Paul’s lips. He picked up the bottle, smiling and ready to go back to the living room where their wives were waiting.
12.
The aftermath of a proper kiss: hair askew and crumbled blankets. Getting undressed hastily. More lazy kisses applied to rapidly cooling skin. Retreating under blankets for warmth but still touching, touching. Hands roaming, exploring, but not being able to hold still. Hitching breath, followed by moans.
The aftermath of a proper kiss: looking at each other and smiling. Knowing how silly you look with that big grin but not being able to stop it. Almost saying I love you but catching yourself just in time. Looking away and back, only to look at those lips. Saying I love you nevertheless.
13.
When Russell didn’t slip out of the door at night, Paul would watch him fall asleep in his bed that suddenly became theirs. It had two pillows anyway, and they did not need another blanket during the warm Mexican nights. He’d watch the rise and fall of Russell’s chest, the unconscious turning before finding the right spot, the one that was exactly how it should be, the melting into sleep. Paul would wait a heartbeat or two, listening to the crickets outside, before leaning close.
He’d kiss him then, Russell’s lips limp and only waking enough to barely return it.
14.
Paul woke up to the sound of raindrops against his windows. For a long moment he was tangled between sleep and the real world seeping into what a second ago was solid. He turned unto his back, feeling the warmth of the dream evaporating, replaced by the lingering chill of London rain. There was a certain melancholy in raising a hand to try and touch someone who isn’t there and never was. He touched his lips to make sure. Paul didn’t know what left him sad – that he had been kissed in a dream or that reality left him unkissed.
15.
Back at the hotel, they both stepped into the shower, sharing what little space they had. The hot water wasn’t hot, not even when cranked up, and the soap smelled like soap, but they bumped into each other and were slippery with lather. Paul licked at Russell’s skin until the salty taste mingled with stingy cleanliness, and when he pulled away, Russell pulled him close again. They pressed against each other, lips locked, tongues playing. They tasted summer and tasted of sun, sea, sand. When they broke their kiss, they couldn’t part; They just stood there, water running over them.
16.
Sometimes they sent each other small gifts. Before the birth of the baby, Russell had sent Paul a one-piece with a silly print on it. How to play with a baby, it read, with a picture giving instructions. Paul had sent a bookmark in return, accompanied with a handwritten note saying that he knew how much reading Russell would have to do for the upcoming movie, and congrats.
Ars longa, vita brevis the bookmark said. Did he know Robert Mackay, the note further asked before closing with “love and kisses, always yours, Paul.”
Amor est vitae essentia, Russell wrote back.
17.
They sat under coloured maple leaves on a blanket and stared up at the different shades of yellow, orange and red. The sun tinted Paul’s hair golden, Russell noticed, and took a swig from his water bottle before coming close to blurting out the words. Paul looked at him fondly for some reason, as if he could guess what was on Russell’s mind and liked it. Russell grinned. There wasn’t much to say this close to the end of their break. So Russell thought of French kissing Paul in the hope that Paul would guess this thought too and blush.
18.
They met in winter. Although it was snowing the pavement was warmed up enough by the sewers that the snowflakes melted immediately. The streets were deserted at night and the cold cut through their coats as they walked. Russell watched as snowflakes settled in Paul’s hair, getting caught. The quietness of winter was absolute, and neither of them spoke. Russell wished for the crisp sound of breaking ice crystals under his feet, the timid sound of snow under boots. The cold left Paul flustered and Russell kissed Paul just to see if Paul’s lips were as cold as his own.
19.
Russell’s absence made him indifferent even to the rain. Paul sat in the study for hours, merely leafing through books, but not reading. Tea was set aside and forgotten, sandwiches stale after a bite. Only work would take his mind off things for a while, but afterwards the mask slipped and he settled back into a familiar stupor. He idly played with the pen instead of writing, picked up the phone without caring who called. He stared at the calendar, waiting. The sound of a door opening finally sent him running, and Russell’s first kiss brought back colours and taste.
20.
He planned on not calling for a week. He had reached a point where calling unnerved him to the point of not being able to dial. He avoided phones to avoid temptation. To call, and hear words being formed so effortlessly by lips he couldn’t kiss, seemed daunting. To make things worse, he was afraid of saying inappropriate things instead of joking around as he normally did. “I love you, I need to see you, Take me with you,” he wanted to say right after Russell picked up. “I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday, I was busy,” he said instead.
21.
He tried to imagine what it would have been like if they had met earlier. Paul would have been lankier, more furious, bones more prominently sticking through pale pale skin. Russell himself had been more assertive up to the point of being aggressive. He came to the conclusion that either they would have pounced each other hungrily, or merely sneered. He liked to think they’d have hit off, angry and fighting everything including each other. They’d have had gorgeous sex fuelled by barely suppressed rage. When Paul stirred next to him, Russell kissed him tenderly. This wasn’t so bad either.
22.
Even though Paul liked to accompany Russell on guitar, he got flustered when Russell asked him to play something alone. For him. Paul knew Russell didn’t want explanations or apologies, but merely a song to listen to. Still, he always explained or apologised. After a while, Russell stopped asking. The impending dread finally made Paul pick up his guitar and softly play some David Gray. After only a few chords he forgot that Russell was listening, that he was singing quietly those perfectly put words about yearning. The only thing more obvious would have been a song about kissing maybe.
23.
It was cold and late, but Russell grabbed their coats and shoved Paul out of the door. They talked about the time they hadn’t seen each other, stretching it until it seemed to have been years and not two months. Talk about it and you give it room, Russell had read somewhere, and he realised that there were things that needed the space. Not being apart, but the way Paul took his breath away. Not loneliness, but the comfort of being close again. The glow he felt when they kissed casually. He pulled Paul close to whisper all these things.
24.
Sometimes, Russell basked in the fierce gleam of jealousy. When he was in the wrong mood, as little as a gesture set him off. He could see Paul writhing on starched sheets beneath another man’s hands the instant the smile lit up on Paul’s face. In his mind, Paul would lay naked on a bed in some nameless hotel, lips half open and eyes heavy lidded with lust. But little was worse than the thought of Paul kissing someone else as passionately as he kissed Russell. Those times, he’d fuck Paul relentlessly, marking his skin, and kiss him hungrily, greedily.
25.
Falling for someone was maybe the most stupid and inaccurate description Paul could think of. Only the first moments felt like falling, the rush of adrenaline of a sky diver who noticed his missing parachute. After that, it was softer, gentler; a glow from a candle, a smile. Falling seemed like the wrong direction altogether. It was like floating, barely noticeable. But maybe he’d just hit his head while falling more heavily then ever before. Maybe he’d only woken up to this feeling of being in love, skipping the rest, except for the memory of their first kiss, first touch.
26.
Paul moved between indifference and rage when upset. There was little in Russell’s life that upset Paul to the point of forgetting about his usual calm, but Russell would tease him sometimes, trying to find the word the gesture the act that did it. Trying to find the button and push it. Coax him to a little anger. He didn’t aim at the screaming fury, but at the quiet tension Paul was prone to. Russell yearned for Paul’s set jaw, the way kissing turned into a possessive bite, strong enough to split his lip and make them both taste blood.
27.
They had kissed maybe a hundred times already, in a dozen different places. Paul didn’t know what to expect, but he looked for a revelation in each new kiss, in each new place. They sat close to the ocean and held hands. It felt like the right place and the right time. Their kiss was tender and everything Paul looked for in a kiss, and yet there was no secret told, no veil lifted. They merely talked about daily matters. Maybe it took more kisses, Paul thought, or maybe the truth comes like summer heat and it was only spring.
28.
Russell once compared kisses to wine, but the simile did not hold; kisses were seldom like wine. They didn’t age well. With age they paled, and no matter how hard he tried to remember, his first kiss seemed only wet and unskilled. A kiss didn’t ripe, couldn’t be kept for later. Later it would not be much better because it wouldn’t increase in body and flavour. A kept kiss, one that isn’t given the instant you wanted to, vanished. (Or maybe the want to kiss vanished, different word but same result really.) He always had preferred actions over comparisons anyway.
29.
Sometimes a kiss seemed to last hours and sometimes it actually did. Paul was grateful for the unpredictability, as he cheekily told Russell. There were things you could joke about with Russell and things you couldn’t, and kissing was definitely on the could list. Russell looked at him, pleased, and pursed his lips, motioning Paul to go on. Paul kissed him then, self-confidently and slowly, before explaining. Russell laughed because it wasn’t a question of getting kissed or not, but of how long the kiss lasted. He leaned closer, voice husky when he dared Paul to show him the difference.
30.
Russell once quickly dodged one of Paul’s kisses because a make up girl came in to get something. She looked at them as if they shouldn’t be there and she was right. She vanished as quickly as she came, but Russell felt off all day.
Later he stood in front of Paul’s house in the dark, with the ocean roaring against the cliffs below. He had bought a six pack on the way, and was fumbling with it now. When the beer was cold, and Russell could lick the bitterness of Paul’s lips, Paul leaned back and smiled.
“Apology accepted.”
31.
They did things that left Paul flustered with embarrassment because they seemed taken from a song. Waiting for ten minutes suddenly seemed like ages, and Paul felt like holding his breath for the entire time. When Russell came and found Paul on the porch of all places, Paul was sure his life had turned into a cheap romance novel. Yet he almost flung himself at Russell. Kissing in the pouring rain was something only movie characters do, yet he found himself clinging to Russell desperately. He grabbed Russell’s soaked coat with both hands, shaking from the cold and the kiss.
32.
It’s 9,957 miles from Sydney to New York, 20 hours 17 minutes by plane and you need to change planes at Los Angeles airport which is a city within a city but still numbing routine.
It’s 10,565 miles from Sydney to London, which translates to 23 hours and about 30 minutes of time spent travelling, and you will have to get off in Bangkok or Singapore and get another plane from there.
And then there’s time zones.
You could add time and flight cost and thus roughly estimate the price for the first kiss you’ll get. You’ll gladly pay it.
33.
Paul woke up to the peculiar feeling that normally comes on a Sunday afternoon, the slight dread at the impending working week that curls itself up at the pit of the stomach and lies there like a frozen rock. He suddenly thought about last everythings – the last kiss, last breakfast, last lazy morning sex, last look over the shoulder before you vanish into the airport on the last day of your visit.
He pretended to be asleep and securely wrapped an arm around Russell, praying that the other man wouldn’t open the curtains yet to discover it was morning already.
34.
He hadn’t meant to fall in love. He hadn’t wanted it to be a fling either. He hadn’t exactly planned any of it. A good talk lead to Paul’s hand on his shoulder that lead to the quiet but nagging wish of a more intimate touch. He had touched Paul’s neck then, barely stroking the skin, and when Paul paused midsentence he wanted to kiss him. Paul just looked at him, as if he had forgotten what he was meant to say. Cause and effect, that’s how it started. Maybe that’s how everything starts, Russell thought, and kissed Paul tenderly.
35.
Most people complain about routine, the hassle of getting up and doing what you did yesterday, starting with the coffee maker and ending with a shower before bed. But Paul had always found it comfortable to fall back into the familiar rhythm. He liked it even better when ‘daily routine’ suddenly included making two cups of tea instead one, a small peck on the cheek in the bathroom and losing the main part of his morning paper to Russell, irritating as it could be. He liked when Russell kissed his pout away; he couldn’t bring himself to call it ‘hassle’.
Pairing: Russell/ Paul
Author's notes: Under the cut you will find 35 drabbles. They are linked only by topic and pairing and don't have to be read in chronological order, though I did rearrange them after writing. They're about love. They are also about kisses and sex and maybe a million other things as well.
Disclaimer: Everything under the cut is purely fictional. Nothing is meant to be implied about the persons depicted.
1.
Paul did not see their first kiss coming. He had laughed about some random remark Russell had made and when he had leaned closer to get his glass of wine, Russell had brushed Paul’s thigh as if by accident. Paul had looked down, then up again, and suddenly he was in Russell’s arms, kissing him.
It was meant to be a soft kiss that… well, meant something. It turned out to be hot and desperate. All tongues and teeth. It took him a while to register that Russell did indeed return it with equal vigour. And that meant something too.
2.
He started calling Paul in the evenings. He told himself he was just keeping in touch, or maybe it was the way Paul’s voice sounded when Paul was getting sleepy. Russell imagined Paul sitting on the couch, eyes half closed, the handset of the phone pressed close to his ear. Between talks about their days and work, Russell breathed soundless I love yous and kisses no one could hear. One time he remembered a line from a poem about kissing the phone when having heard the loved ones voice. He agreed but never did kiss it. It seemed too silly.
3.
They developed codes. Going back to the hotel, they’d meet in the room of whoever jingled his keys first. When Russell got out his key card, Paul stepped off one floor early.
“Have a good night,” he said, turning towards his room.
“I will, thanks,” Russell answered, knowing Paul would knock three minutes later.
Shall I order room service translated to Will you stay the night. The brushing off of invisible lints meant I need to pick up spare clothes and might be a tad late.
Kisses as soon as the door closed translated into a million things at once.
4.
Russell didn’t like to send text messages. He preferred calling and hearing Paul’s voice. He couldn’t be arsed to spend ages to type a smallish note saying things Paul knew already and not getting an answer immediately. When he received a message from Paul saying “I will be a day late due to work, I’m sorry, can’t call right now, but I do think about you,” followed by three little crosses, he remembered that crossed were supposed to be kisses while circles were hugs. It made him smile, even though the crosses were nothing like Paul’s lips pressed against his.
5.
Paul had tried not to read anything into looks and touches. He joked about it, the way someone held someone else’s hand a heartbeat longer than necessary or the daft looking, looking away, looking he often saw at parties. Russell’s hand on the small of Paul’s back wasn’t anything but lust. The way Paul licked across the skin of Russell’s neck – lust. Their pressing close, their fumbling, whispering, sweating – lust. The hidden touches – lust, the calls to agree on a place and time – lust. It was the kisses that undid Paul, soft and unexpected. They left nothing open for interpretation.
6.
The back of the club was almost completely dark except when strobe light lit random faces. Couples were focussed on each other, rather than going for the general let’s be seen attitude on the dance floor. The drumming bass went straight to Paul’s groin and he risked a moan. He pressed a little closer to catch the smile on Russell’s face. It was the delicious oblivious half-smile Russell wore when he didn’t care about their surroundings. Paul later thought about it as their first public kiss, though it was semi-public at best, hidden in shadows and among other moving bodies.
7.
In a doomed attempt to make it last, to make it permanent, or at least permanent enough to make it through the next day, kisses turned into biting and nipping. Skin turned bruised and blossomed with red angry welts. Scratches and marks accompanied love bites. All of them cleverly and carefully placed, easily hidden in almost all kinds of weather. They both knew and felt but no one saw.
Paul stood naked in front of the mirror, looking at the aftermath of needy desperation.
Russell pressed his fingers into the small bluish imprints on his hips, wanting them to stay.
8.
Paul had waited patiently in the shade until the sun was low and tired. He brushed the sand of his legs, pulled over a shirt and sauntered over to where Russell was lying. The sea water had bleached Russell’s hair further, draining it of the gold-blondish hints. Russell had moved until he lay prone, spending the last hour with his back towards the evening sun. He looked utterly relaxed and Paul thought he could feel the heat of the day radiating off Russell’s skin. When he carefully placed a kiss on Russell’s shoulder, he was surprised to find it cool.
9.
Sometimes, Russell’s mobile would ring, and when he looked up after answering, he could see Paul walking away, cell phone in hand. Paul laughed into Russell’s ear then, a bit breathless from running.
“How are you, honey?” he would say.
Russell wondered why Paul needed to be close while getting away, but he played along. He liked to think it was for the people within earshot, but really, it was not.
“Lovey, I’m so glad you called. I missed your voice.”
“I’ll hang up if you make kissy sounds,” Paul threatened.
“I’d rather kiss you when I see you later.”
10.
It was like a dance he didn’t know the steps to, Paul thought. This almost dating, this not yet admitting, this maybe maybe not. The what ifs left him stumbling around, not being able to keep up. All the time he was terribly off beat, and got blissfully lost in the forward momentum. Every turn on Russell’s part caused further tumbles, but the rush of it all made up for it. Paul wasn’t prepared for the sudden halt when Russell kissed him goodbye one evening. Everything stands so still when you dance, a song said aptly, everything spins so fast.
11.
Russell cornered Paul between piles of used dinnerware when Paul tried to uncork another bottle of crimson Merlot. He had lost one of his cufflinks sometime during the evening, and his collar hung crooked and creased. After the resonant plop Russell took the bottle from Paul’s hands, placing it aside, and leaning in for a kiss. The laughter from the next room didn’t quite drown Paul’s surprised intake of air, and Russell could taste honey and berries on Paul’s lips. He picked up the bottle, smiling and ready to go back to the living room where their wives were waiting.
12.
The aftermath of a proper kiss: hair askew and crumbled blankets. Getting undressed hastily. More lazy kisses applied to rapidly cooling skin. Retreating under blankets for warmth but still touching, touching. Hands roaming, exploring, but not being able to hold still. Hitching breath, followed by moans.
The aftermath of a proper kiss: looking at each other and smiling. Knowing how silly you look with that big grin but not being able to stop it. Almost saying I love you but catching yourself just in time. Looking away and back, only to look at those lips. Saying I love you nevertheless.
13.
When Russell didn’t slip out of the door at night, Paul would watch him fall asleep in his bed that suddenly became theirs. It had two pillows anyway, and they did not need another blanket during the warm Mexican nights. He’d watch the rise and fall of Russell’s chest, the unconscious turning before finding the right spot, the one that was exactly how it should be, the melting into sleep. Paul would wait a heartbeat or two, listening to the crickets outside, before leaning close.
He’d kiss him then, Russell’s lips limp and only waking enough to barely return it.
14.
Paul woke up to the sound of raindrops against his windows. For a long moment he was tangled between sleep and the real world seeping into what a second ago was solid. He turned unto his back, feeling the warmth of the dream evaporating, replaced by the lingering chill of London rain. There was a certain melancholy in raising a hand to try and touch someone who isn’t there and never was. He touched his lips to make sure. Paul didn’t know what left him sad – that he had been kissed in a dream or that reality left him unkissed.
15.
Back at the hotel, they both stepped into the shower, sharing what little space they had. The hot water wasn’t hot, not even when cranked up, and the soap smelled like soap, but they bumped into each other and were slippery with lather. Paul licked at Russell’s skin until the salty taste mingled with stingy cleanliness, and when he pulled away, Russell pulled him close again. They pressed against each other, lips locked, tongues playing. They tasted summer and tasted of sun, sea, sand. When they broke their kiss, they couldn’t part; They just stood there, water running over them.
16.
Sometimes they sent each other small gifts. Before the birth of the baby, Russell had sent Paul a one-piece with a silly print on it. How to play with a baby, it read, with a picture giving instructions. Paul had sent a bookmark in return, accompanied with a handwritten note saying that he knew how much reading Russell would have to do for the upcoming movie, and congrats.
Ars longa, vita brevis the bookmark said. Did he know Robert Mackay, the note further asked before closing with “love and kisses, always yours, Paul.”
Amor est vitae essentia, Russell wrote back.
17.
They sat under coloured maple leaves on a blanket and stared up at the different shades of yellow, orange and red. The sun tinted Paul’s hair golden, Russell noticed, and took a swig from his water bottle before coming close to blurting out the words. Paul looked at him fondly for some reason, as if he could guess what was on Russell’s mind and liked it. Russell grinned. There wasn’t much to say this close to the end of their break. So Russell thought of French kissing Paul in the hope that Paul would guess this thought too and blush.
18.
They met in winter. Although it was snowing the pavement was warmed up enough by the sewers that the snowflakes melted immediately. The streets were deserted at night and the cold cut through their coats as they walked. Russell watched as snowflakes settled in Paul’s hair, getting caught. The quietness of winter was absolute, and neither of them spoke. Russell wished for the crisp sound of breaking ice crystals under his feet, the timid sound of snow under boots. The cold left Paul flustered and Russell kissed Paul just to see if Paul’s lips were as cold as his own.
19.
Russell’s absence made him indifferent even to the rain. Paul sat in the study for hours, merely leafing through books, but not reading. Tea was set aside and forgotten, sandwiches stale after a bite. Only work would take his mind off things for a while, but afterwards the mask slipped and he settled back into a familiar stupor. He idly played with the pen instead of writing, picked up the phone without caring who called. He stared at the calendar, waiting. The sound of a door opening finally sent him running, and Russell’s first kiss brought back colours and taste.
20.
He planned on not calling for a week. He had reached a point where calling unnerved him to the point of not being able to dial. He avoided phones to avoid temptation. To call, and hear words being formed so effortlessly by lips he couldn’t kiss, seemed daunting. To make things worse, he was afraid of saying inappropriate things instead of joking around as he normally did. “I love you, I need to see you, Take me with you,” he wanted to say right after Russell picked up. “I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday, I was busy,” he said instead.
21.
He tried to imagine what it would have been like if they had met earlier. Paul would have been lankier, more furious, bones more prominently sticking through pale pale skin. Russell himself had been more assertive up to the point of being aggressive. He came to the conclusion that either they would have pounced each other hungrily, or merely sneered. He liked to think they’d have hit off, angry and fighting everything including each other. They’d have had gorgeous sex fuelled by barely suppressed rage. When Paul stirred next to him, Russell kissed him tenderly. This wasn’t so bad either.
22.
Even though Paul liked to accompany Russell on guitar, he got flustered when Russell asked him to play something alone. For him. Paul knew Russell didn’t want explanations or apologies, but merely a song to listen to. Still, he always explained or apologised. After a while, Russell stopped asking. The impending dread finally made Paul pick up his guitar and softly play some David Gray. After only a few chords he forgot that Russell was listening, that he was singing quietly those perfectly put words about yearning. The only thing more obvious would have been a song about kissing maybe.
23.
It was cold and late, but Russell grabbed their coats and shoved Paul out of the door. They talked about the time they hadn’t seen each other, stretching it until it seemed to have been years and not two months. Talk about it and you give it room, Russell had read somewhere, and he realised that there were things that needed the space. Not being apart, but the way Paul took his breath away. Not loneliness, but the comfort of being close again. The glow he felt when they kissed casually. He pulled Paul close to whisper all these things.
24.
Sometimes, Russell basked in the fierce gleam of jealousy. When he was in the wrong mood, as little as a gesture set him off. He could see Paul writhing on starched sheets beneath another man’s hands the instant the smile lit up on Paul’s face. In his mind, Paul would lay naked on a bed in some nameless hotel, lips half open and eyes heavy lidded with lust. But little was worse than the thought of Paul kissing someone else as passionately as he kissed Russell. Those times, he’d fuck Paul relentlessly, marking his skin, and kiss him hungrily, greedily.
25.
Falling for someone was maybe the most stupid and inaccurate description Paul could think of. Only the first moments felt like falling, the rush of adrenaline of a sky diver who noticed his missing parachute. After that, it was softer, gentler; a glow from a candle, a smile. Falling seemed like the wrong direction altogether. It was like floating, barely noticeable. But maybe he’d just hit his head while falling more heavily then ever before. Maybe he’d only woken up to this feeling of being in love, skipping the rest, except for the memory of their first kiss, first touch.
26.
Paul moved between indifference and rage when upset. There was little in Russell’s life that upset Paul to the point of forgetting about his usual calm, but Russell would tease him sometimes, trying to find the word the gesture the act that did it. Trying to find the button and push it. Coax him to a little anger. He didn’t aim at the screaming fury, but at the quiet tension Paul was prone to. Russell yearned for Paul’s set jaw, the way kissing turned into a possessive bite, strong enough to split his lip and make them both taste blood.
27.
They had kissed maybe a hundred times already, in a dozen different places. Paul didn’t know what to expect, but he looked for a revelation in each new kiss, in each new place. They sat close to the ocean and held hands. It felt like the right place and the right time. Their kiss was tender and everything Paul looked for in a kiss, and yet there was no secret told, no veil lifted. They merely talked about daily matters. Maybe it took more kisses, Paul thought, or maybe the truth comes like summer heat and it was only spring.
28.
Russell once compared kisses to wine, but the simile did not hold; kisses were seldom like wine. They didn’t age well. With age they paled, and no matter how hard he tried to remember, his first kiss seemed only wet and unskilled. A kiss didn’t ripe, couldn’t be kept for later. Later it would not be much better because it wouldn’t increase in body and flavour. A kept kiss, one that isn’t given the instant you wanted to, vanished. (Or maybe the want to kiss vanished, different word but same result really.) He always had preferred actions over comparisons anyway.
29.
Sometimes a kiss seemed to last hours and sometimes it actually did. Paul was grateful for the unpredictability, as he cheekily told Russell. There were things you could joke about with Russell and things you couldn’t, and kissing was definitely on the could list. Russell looked at him, pleased, and pursed his lips, motioning Paul to go on. Paul kissed him then, self-confidently and slowly, before explaining. Russell laughed because it wasn’t a question of getting kissed or not, but of how long the kiss lasted. He leaned closer, voice husky when he dared Paul to show him the difference.
30.
Russell once quickly dodged one of Paul’s kisses because a make up girl came in to get something. She looked at them as if they shouldn’t be there and she was right. She vanished as quickly as she came, but Russell felt off all day.
Later he stood in front of Paul’s house in the dark, with the ocean roaring against the cliffs below. He had bought a six pack on the way, and was fumbling with it now. When the beer was cold, and Russell could lick the bitterness of Paul’s lips, Paul leaned back and smiled.
“Apology accepted.”
31.
They did things that left Paul flustered with embarrassment because they seemed taken from a song. Waiting for ten minutes suddenly seemed like ages, and Paul felt like holding his breath for the entire time. When Russell came and found Paul on the porch of all places, Paul was sure his life had turned into a cheap romance novel. Yet he almost flung himself at Russell. Kissing in the pouring rain was something only movie characters do, yet he found himself clinging to Russell desperately. He grabbed Russell’s soaked coat with both hands, shaking from the cold and the kiss.
32.
It’s 9,957 miles from Sydney to New York, 20 hours 17 minutes by plane and you need to change planes at Los Angeles airport which is a city within a city but still numbing routine.
It’s 10,565 miles from Sydney to London, which translates to 23 hours and about 30 minutes of time spent travelling, and you will have to get off in Bangkok or Singapore and get another plane from there.
And then there’s time zones.
You could add time and flight cost and thus roughly estimate the price for the first kiss you’ll get. You’ll gladly pay it.
33.
Paul woke up to the peculiar feeling that normally comes on a Sunday afternoon, the slight dread at the impending working week that curls itself up at the pit of the stomach and lies there like a frozen rock. He suddenly thought about last everythings – the last kiss, last breakfast, last lazy morning sex, last look over the shoulder before you vanish into the airport on the last day of your visit.
He pretended to be asleep and securely wrapped an arm around Russell, praying that the other man wouldn’t open the curtains yet to discover it was morning already.
34.
He hadn’t meant to fall in love. He hadn’t wanted it to be a fling either. He hadn’t exactly planned any of it. A good talk lead to Paul’s hand on his shoulder that lead to the quiet but nagging wish of a more intimate touch. He had touched Paul’s neck then, barely stroking the skin, and when Paul paused midsentence he wanted to kiss him. Paul just looked at him, as if he had forgotten what he was meant to say. Cause and effect, that’s how it started. Maybe that’s how everything starts, Russell thought, and kissed Paul tenderly.
35.
Most people complain about routine, the hassle of getting up and doing what you did yesterday, starting with the coffee maker and ending with a shower before bed. But Paul had always found it comfortable to fall back into the familiar rhythm. He liked it even better when ‘daily routine’ suddenly included making two cups of tea instead one, a small peck on the cheek in the bathroom and losing the main part of his morning paper to Russell, irritating as it could be. He liked when Russell kissed his pout away; he couldn’t bring himself to call it ‘hassle’.
