Page 29 of Snowed In

I kiss his cheek. “I’ll get the fireplaces settled. Go get ready for bed.”

When he doesn’t remark about me tending to the fires as a perk he purchased when he paid for the room, I know he truly is tired. I kiss him again and then watch him walk down the hall. My heart beats erratically as I go through the methodical motions of making sure the fires are prepped. With the way the wind whips down the chimney, I’m likely going to have to get up at some point in the night and make sure they’re okay.

Gabe climbs into bed as I’m finishing with the fireplace in the bedroom. He yawns big and I smile as I take my turn in the bathroom. I find my way to the bed in the dancing shadows of the fire. I’m not sure we’ve turned the light on in the bedroom yet. Actually… there might have been a lamp on that first night. It’s hard to recall. It was so long ago and yet, it feels like it was just yesterday.

Pulling Gabe into my chest, I press soft kisses over his face. “I don’t want today to end,” he says, sighing. “It’s been the best Christmas in so long.”

“I was just thinking that,” I say.

“Then let’s not end yet,” he says, shifting so he can press his face to mine. “Tell me something.”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

Gabe yawns again and shakes his head. “Anything.”

I’m pretty sure that he’s going to fall asleep any moment, but I consider my life and tell him something random from childhood. I feel his smile as I talk. His fingers move along my bare skin softly.

This is how we spend hours. We talk about nothing and everything. We talk about our birthdays—I’m nearly a decade older, but not quite. We talk about how we used to celebrate them growing up and what we’ve done since adulthood.

We talk about our favorites—colors, people, states, hobbies, food, vacations, friends. We follow up with our biggest dislikes, too. Gabedespisesyellow, which he finds very inconvenient since his soccer team’s colors are yellow and green.

We talk about our childhoods. Our first loves. Our favorite memories. We talk about sex. Our experiences, experiments, most embarrassing moments, our likes, the things we’d like to try. We talk about our fantasies.

We spend a long time talking about my sexuality, since this thing with a guy is entirely new. I’m left with the conclusion that maybe I’m bisexual, but I fall closest to the side that has me being attracted to women. He talked about some kind of scale and while I was listening, it was one of those moments where I just mentally sat back and thought, ‘wow, I’m with a man right now and nothing has ever felt this good.’

So I might have missed a lot about the gay scale talk because of my internal moment of surprise. But not freaking out, or even a little concerned because of it. I’ve always been indifferent on the topic of sexuality. The thought that people cared so much about what another person does when it doesn’t affect you has always just been flabbergasting to me. Do they really have so little going on in their lives that they can focus that much hate and energy to bully two women holding hands? Are their lives so empty that they can dedicate their fucking breath to trying to control what two men do behind closed doors?

Don’t even get me started on other sensitive topics. People have far too much time on their hands. I think they just need more fulfilling lives. In my opinion, the reason they have such a loud view on whatever topic they’re so extreme about is to cover up their own insecurities. Gay men offend you? Probably because you’ve been attracted to a man, and it’s freaked you out. Otherwise, why the fuck do you care?!

Yes, this was the avenue my thoughts went on while Gabe was talking about the gay-straight scale. It even had a name. Started with a K, I think.

We talk about the places we want to see. The things we want to experience. Our dreams and greatest fears. We talk about Gabe’s career and my, uh… career, I suppose. I’m a born rich boy who’s grown his fortune with some smart investing. While I have a lot to say on the matter, most people just roll their eyes. Another rich guy telling everyone how rich he is.

Gabe doesn’t do that. He listens, asking questions frequently. I’m not sure anyone has ever truly listened to me talk about what I’ve accomplished, what I’d like to accomplish still, what I’ve learned and wouldn’t do again. But Gabe listens to it all.

Our conversation turns to more intimate matters. Would I ever get married again? Does Gabe want to get married? What’s the ideal relationship we envision? What’s important in those relationships?

My heart beats out of control when he talks because everything becomes so vivid. I’m not sure a single word out of his mouth isn’t something I’ve truly craved at least once in my life. It’s so… so… visceral that I can hardly speak when he asks me the same question.

Then we talk about kids. Would it bother him going into a relationship with someone who already has kids? What kind of role would he want to be in their lives? What kind of involvement would he want to have?

Does Gabe want kids? Would I be willing to have more if my partner wants kids but doesn’t have any and it’d mean essentially starting over?

Honestly, I might have thought that it wouldn’t appeal to me but then I keep thinking…I’d get to be a part of that child’s life in a way I wasn’t allowed to the first three times…and it becomes more and more appealing.

I’m not sure when it happens, but our conversation turns into love making. We move from talking about what family means and looks like to us to deep, slow, passionate kisses and me pushing inside his tight, hot body.

There’s something surreal about this moment. Not just the way he feels around me, but the way everything comes into hyper-focus. His hands never stop moving over my body. Never stop touching me, as if he can’t get enough.

Not that I can truly compare Gabe to Bernice, but there was always a sense of ‘hurry up’ with my wife. She wasn’t into it. Didn’t like to touch me at all.

With Gabe, nothing could be further from the truth. The way he touches me makes me feel good. Wanted. Like I’m attractive to someone.

I’ve never been in the best shape. I go to the gym intermittently, at best. Most of the time, it was with the resolve to look better so my wife would find me attractive. But the motivation just wasn’t there. I’ve always been a little… husky. Not fat, exactly, but thicker.

That might be why I never cared that Bernice hid it under expensive clothes that somehow gave me shape and definition in a complimentary way. I didn’t look frumpy in the clothes she bought.

Gabe’s hands moving over my bare body are a high I can’t explain. He touches everywhere and never stops. He kisses me with such fervor. His moans and grunts aren’t fake. I can see the pleasure across his face as I slowly pump inside him.

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