Alec

by William di Canzio

Hall locked the door; when he returned, he stood at the foot of the bed, naked, aroused, unsure. He looked at Alec shyly and in silence, seeming not only to offer himself, but to seek permission, even approval. The sheet was tangled across Alec’s middle; he pulled it away. Maurice smiled at the welcome, lay beside him, warmed him with his embrace, and nestled his face against Alec’s neck, his breath like a wordless whisper. He touched the head of Alec’s cock and showed him the droplet on his fingertip. He wiped it on his own cheek. Alec found Maurice’s lips with his own and parted them gently, the way Van had taught him, with the edge of his tongue. Later, spent again, they slept. At first they rolled apart, as if their newfound intimacy harassed them, but toward morning a movement began, and they woke deep in each other’s arms. Off in the distance, the bell of St. Simon’s struck. Maurice’s head lay heavily on Alec’s chest. Alec remained still, as much to cherish his own contentment as to protect his lover’s repose.