Rain: A Romantic Short

The window was cracked just a bit, and I could hear the rain falling from the sky, that steady safe woosh of an endless shower of water, falling and falling from the sky, soaking the ground and the grass and the pavement. Water that falls and seeps into everything and finds it’s mark and nourishes.

It was a gray day. I couldn’t remember what time it ought to be, though it was probably the afternoon.

We were all alone. We would be for a few more days. The blinds were raised to show the view of Henry’s back yard, a lush green valley of grass that needed mowing, and in the distance at the bottom of the hill were the trees that led into an expansive forest. Their property extended somewhere into the woods. Usually we’d be out there, even in this rain, soaking wet, up against the wet bark of a tree. But we didn’t mind.

I could smell the rain in the air. It smelled like home, like something safe. The gray light cast down to the boy who lay in my arms. My eyes washed over him, drinking in the sight of his soft, white skin. He’d always been somewhat pale, but right now his whole body was flushed pink. His arms were pulled close and his hands rested on my chest, his fingers making slight movements against my naked chest that sent shivers through my body.

His eyes were closed, his moppy dark brown hair obscured most of his face. It was still damp from sweat. Beneath the covers, our naked legs were intertwined, and my still sticky cock was pressed against his thighs. His member was hiding somewhere, because he was curling up slightly and facing toward me.

I brushed a strand of dark hair away from his face. He took a staggering deep breath that told me he was falling asleep. I pulled him closer and felt his heart beating in his neck and his back, still thumping a little harder than normal. A few minutes ago we’d come together and collapsed, and I had pulled the blankets above us to fight the oncoming chill of the cool afternoon air.

No one would be home for several days. We were all alone. This was our time. We were lucky to have it. We’d been in love for years. Our parents thought we were just friends. We couldn’t tell them the truth, or anyone else. Not even our friends new. Though we both knew they suspected it and we didn’t deny it.

Sometimes we met up underneath an old abandoned bridge in the woods. Sometimes in the dense forest behind Henry’s house. And sometimes, when there was a blessed hour or two when no one was around, we could pull our clothes off, breathing quickly, hearts thumping, and fall into Henry’s soft queen size bed, and we would roll and giggle and kiss and bite and embrace and thrust and pull and we would make mistakes and accidentally hurt each other, and our bodies would awkwardly clap together and make silly noises, and sometimes there was a mess and sometimes there were unpleasant smells and sometimes one of us would have a runny nose and it would get on the other. Being in love is a messy business. Being human is messy. Touching is messy.

We didn’t mind. We treasured everything. Every moment and every touch, every taste and smell. He was the only person I’d ever loved, and I never wanted to love anyone else. The world was empty but for Henry and his moppy hair and his shorter height than mine, and his adorable round butt that made me instantly hard every time I saw it, and the way he laughed at stupid things in movies that made me roll my eyes, and the way I could feel him harden in his pants when I gave him even the most gentle kiss. The way his bright blue eyes would look up at me, because he was always lower than me, when we stood he was lower, and when we were in bed I held him against my chest. It’s strange that it was my arms around him that made me feel so safe.

When his head was laying against my chest, with his soft, wet breath against my skin, I was more than one body, his entire being was an extension of mine, with his own individual thoughts but we shared one beating heart that led us to come together again and again, our mouths sloppy and wet, our cocks throbbing with the intense beating of our hearts, our heads swimming and hot with something that couldn’t be expressed out loud, the whimpers that passed between our lips and the gentle moans and the loud gasps of pleasure only hinted at something so large that it filled up our chests and when we burst, bloody and warm, all over each other, we just kept growing until we filled the room and I think we might fill the whole world.

With my outer hand I explored the familiar contours of his body. The gentle down of hair against his butt, which he hated but which I thought was incredibly sexy. My fingers passed through those hairs that were so light they were almost blonde, perfectly splayed along the cheeks of his butt. My finger found it’s way between them into the warm crevice that seemed to beat with his heart for just a moment against my fingertip. He was nearly asleep but he noticed, and he squirmed gently, but it was a happy gesture. He was exhausted, but I knew that if I pushed my fingertip further, he would want more. I ran my fingertip up along the crevice between his cheeks and then my nails gave a gentle tickling scratch up his back to his shoulder, and he breathed the tiniest sigh of relief. I wanted him to have this reprieve, I knew that in an hour or so we’d be at it again.

But in this moment, with the lingering smell of our bodies and our sweat and our fluids still sticky and drying against me and inside of him, we were safe, and we were whole, and it was quiet. My head was swimming and I found myself getting sleepy too, but I kept my eyes open, and watched the rain outside the window.

This moment might come again and again in our lives. We might have a million of these moments. But this one would never be replaced, and none afterward would be the same. When we were older, we’d both look back on this moment and yearn for it, even if we still have the happiest of moments then, this one will never come again. This one is perfect.

I am more perfectly alive than any other person in the world. Anyone who yearns and tries and searches, it is this that they are searching for. It is this moment in the rain, with Henry pressed against me, and the utter safety of knowing that I don’t have to get out of bed if I don’t want to, and I don’t have to let him go.

I place a finger, the same one that was just giving his entrance a gentle prod, beneath his chin and with the slightest pressure I raise his face up, and his lips form the slightest of smiles. I lean down and my lips reach forward and find their home upon his, and his lower lip is in my mouth and I suck it gently, and a soft and gentle groaning for more comes from him chest and his throat, vibrating against my mouth. He wants more. He’s insatiable. I love him so much.

I kiss his closed eyes, my lips touching those soft eyelids, and his lashes flutter just a little from the surprise, but he’s smiling again. He opens those eyes and they look into mine, and they are blue and crystal and bright and full of everything I am, and he leans up to give me a kiss himself, one a little rougher than mine, his lips pressing hard against mine, and now my eyes are closed, and my pelvis instinctively thrusts forward as my cock begins lazily thickening, and finds its tip pressed against his erection. He lays his head against my chest again and his eyes are closed, and as I glance at his face I place a kiss on his temple.

Everything is worth this. Any pain is worth this. As long as I have this, I can be anything. As long as Henry is pressed against my chest and his lithe body is squirming in my arms, readying itself for more of our passionate and emotional connection, as long as I have the heat of his body to protect me from the sweet chill of the rain outside, I am alive. He is everything in my heart, and the world is a bright landscape upon which he walks, and his destination will always be in my arms, where I need him to be, where I can have safety and shelter. He is rain and forests and beds and moments.

His voice is a soft, crackling whisper, saying that he loves me. My vision becomes blurry. He’ll notice in a moment and ask me why I’m crying. But for a fraction of a moment, this is my reality, forever and ever, and I am so happy that I can’t express it, but my body is trying anyway, with my hard cock and my salty tears and my expectant lips when they come close to his.

And there is no world, no home, no life, but for this feeling, and even though in a few moments it will subside, and transform, and become something different, it’s here. And this is enough. This is enough.