Sip of Serenity: Just a Cup of Tea

So I'll tell you what, when the moonlight comes in and I'm sure I can't dream because my mind is just swimming with too many realtime problems, I'll tell you I'm damned if it's not him I always come back to. And it gets to the point where I'm sure I'll do something, I'm sure I will. And the night'll come when I'll go to him and let him in on my little moonlight secret and he'll go along with it, because he can be that way sometimes, I swear he can. He can be gruff and cranky and rough and mean, but there's too much gentleness. It's just that it's been wounded by the world and he doesn't know where to go with it, where to put it, to hide it– he doesn't know yet about the quiet little room with all the secrets and shafts of light. But I think maybe one day soon– or night, afterday, never in the bright lights, that's just not the place for it– but maybe in the dark, I'll be able to show him. I can usher him in, show him the door....

I've seen you, you know, standing by the door, any door– it's a passage if you're there. I think you're my gateway. The point is, I've seen you and I know you. I really do, and that scares me. It scares you too, that's why we're in separate rooms each night when the darkness comes. God, it's sad– it's so sad.

Sadder still is the small little package I found on my bed last night. Little note taped to a little paper bag, folded under like a wrapping job done by a dirt poor 19 year old, geeky and skinny and trusting only his bandmates. Shaking hands, I swear shaking– me, who can perform in front of bajillions of people and have enough control to keep my fingers steady flowing like mad over a fretboard and it's my sanity, I tell you... but brown paper bag and a folded note and control, goodbye. So I reach for it, and it's from him. James. Our James, who I have to share with bajillion people always always, and it says:

"Heya, Noisey Thing– Saw this in town today and thought of you. Talk to you later, Jaymzz "

"The Oriental Passion for Tea"

The sad silent room suddenly gets so still then once the world starts to move again I'm surprised I'm still breathing. From a book, a book from him, who's been by my side for so long and why am I such a goddamned coward?

Fuzzy world slides away and tears slide down my cheeks and I have to breathe again, find my center, catch my breath, relax into this waiting world. And still the feeling that it'll never happen because of that one little puzzle piece. It's like having a full complete puzzle, and you take one piece and you put it in a jar on a shelf, to keep it safe to keep it away from grubby dirty hands, but you know what? You really put it there just because you're selfish, you know, and you want to be the one to put the last piece in. Only because you hid it, someone found it because that's the way it works out sometimes, that's the way these things happen. Someone found it and took it and you don't know who or why, but it might be the same inspiration as you– selfish, sweaty selfish little grubby hands you have yourself and now it's slipped from your grasp just because you wanted to badly to keep it safe, but really– you wanted to keep it from your own.

Possession, not passion. Once it's love, you let it free, and I love the complicated pieces that have been falling into place for so many years now, but I'm not enlightened enough I guess to see the full picture, I can't see how close to complete the puzzle is– and even if it was, would I be the one in possession of the hidden piece?

"Kirk? Man, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

He starts to shift, starts to throw the covers off, and I can't let him. Oh, I just can't. Because if I let him do anything then I'll let him do _anything_, and I won't be in control of myself. Not that I am now. But oh god, I have to stop him. So I move forward, inching out of the shadows and I know exactly where the shadows end and I planned it out– he shouldn't see my face, not until he's ready. But he knows it me, of course he knows it's me and neither of us has much of a choice in all this, do we? If we weren't throw together, then I just don't know what.

But I do move towards him, I move into the light, and he sees me there and he stays under the covers. One leg swung out of bed, one in, poised and ready and uncertain. Uncertain and it makes me weak, but not weak like I always am– not weak like I'll leave. Weak like if I don't make it better fix it and finally finally show him what hides in my darkness then I'll never give myself another chance. So I raise my hand, and he stays still and I find my voice.

"Please, James– just stay there."

"Are you ok?"

"James, I... I've been thinking and I want to try something, so please just let me, ok?"

He barely hesitates before he nods and he lays back a little on his pillows, but keeps his head up to watch me. He looks so concerned, so worried, like I'm not alright. No, not alright, but getting better and would he hate me if he knew the cause and cure was he himself? I'm about to find out and I'm buzzing with the anticipation, and I have to breathe, Zen, remember? Zen, right?

The first sip...

"The first sip is joy."

How did I get here? When did I put the book down, ignore the prickling little waterdrops that made my vision blurry and find my blurred-vision way here? I don't care I don't care and if he could please please just not move, I could maybe have a sip of serenity. Somehow, I manage to touch my lips to his.

"The second sip is gladness."

Slutslut, get the hell out of here. He's too good, and you're... you're ... being stopped.

"Kirk? Kirk, c'mon, man, don't fight me on this. Look at me."

Fuzzy world, this was supposed to go away.

"Kirk, a judgemental soul only tarnishes itself."

Stunned, I stand. He smirks.

"Wha–?"

He pulls. I collapse. Onto the side of his bed, the edge, and he had to quick scoot his leg out of the way and make room for me. Do you think he'd make room for me some more? On his couch while he watches some stupid show or on the shelf so I could put a figurine next to his cookbooks or in his life so that I don't have to go back to that locked room of shadows?

He shrugs. Is he answering me? No... he doesn't answer with a shrug, he starts with a shrug. It's just his way. "I don't know... thought it might catch your attention. I was reading all those goofy books when Uli drug me to a New Age shop today, and of course I thought of you but then all the phrases got stuck in my head and I started making up my own. So, sorry, that's just one of the ones I came up with on the walk home." He takes a breath, realizing he's uttered too many phrases and they are just hanging in the thick dark air– it's not like daylight where your noise just evaporates in the too bright. In the night, words have to mean more because they hang on heavy. Bright blue eyes up to me now and the lips move again. "Did... did you see the book I picked up for you?"

I nod. My chest hurts. Like a bear hug directly to my heart. Somehow I manage to breathe again, and lean forward and kiss him. "Don't say another word. You talk too much."

He smiles at me, and allows me to push him back on the bed. He doesn't question, which is good because I don't know if he'd like the answers.

"The third is serenity."

Hovering over him, I strip him down. My gaze lingers everywhere followed by my hands and lips and finally I find a way to please him. I knew I could if I gave myself the chance, and here it is and I'm not failing! So I take him in my mouth... long, thick, hard and so so tangy to taste. I sort of laugh thinking of it– I'll have to make up new words for this experience because I'm pretty sure there aren't words that exist for his taste, his scent, him.

He moans– it was the laugh. I'll laugh again. The world is floating around me made less opaque when I shut my eyes and all that exists for me is all I need– my lips, James' cock.

Another moan –more strangled– and I look up and meet his eyes. That's when it becomes all too real. He wasn't expecting this –what if he doesn't want this? What if he was perfectly happy alone in the dark and thought that I was just coming in to have the odd although normal for us once in a while darktime chat? I do that, come in, say some words, hug it out, leave. Leave back to my cage, and I didn't this time... and now I'm licking his shaft like I have a right to.

And when I search his eyes and I find amazement there I don't know if it's because he's discombobulated or ecstatic. Then his come shoots against the back of my throat and he's calling my name, calling out like the trapped wild creature he is.

"The fourth is madness."

He's done, I did it! And I had no right and oh god, now he's done and it's over and I think I have to go or or or who knows what might happen. And of course I should have known better, that he wasn't just going to let me go because suddenly there's strong arms around me, pulling me close to him and I'm shaking like a leaf.

And he smooths down my hair. And kisses me softly. And he's smiling. All I can answer with is a whimper.

Concern on his face? I find him here, in the moonlight, I take charge, move the covers, find him waiting for me I hope, and I did my dream.

"I was so afraid someone else was going to find you." It comes out just above a whimper.

He looks confused. Of course he does– you talk nonsense and you know it. And he knows it, but sometimes he catches on sometimes when the rest of the world doesn't because that's just his way. It's the way that was showed to you, how you know it's your way to go. But when he doesn't get it, it's like the walls cracking and how many cracks until they fall down?

But his hands on your cheeks –it's like plaster in the cracks. Not perfect, but strong... and maybe someday it'll all be fixed up.

So with his hands on my cheeks, he actually kisses me. He kisses me. And he sort of has that twinkle that drives you crazy and he asks ... something. Something like areyouokay or whatareyoutalkingabout or something and I think I answer, and I think it's something about how he fits with me and I waited too long to reach for him and add him to the picture.

Then, he smiles like what I've said makes perfect sense to him, kisses me again, and whisper-laughs, "You're nuts, Quirk, you know that?"

"The fifth is ecstasy."

"But that's ok. It's part of why I love you." James lets his words slide over me as tangibly as his hands. Before I can fully figure out just why, he is stroking me and holding me and letting me jerk against his hand.

"Come for me, my beautiful man." His voice is rough like his hands, but the tone is as soft as his intent.

There is no way to describe the feeling of belonging. You just know when you're there, and then the shafts of light become hope, the darkness is a blanket rather than a threat... and you can finally sleep easily, safely. You might wonder what took you so damn long to find this place, you might. Instead you'll dream of how happy you are to just be.

*~*~* end *~*~*