Page 31 of Love, Will

“Dear Will,

I hope to come to London within the week. As you know, duty first.

Love, Henry”

Henry was lying on my chest, his hair a beautiful curly mess. We made love several times that night and worshiped each other with kisses, tongues, teeth and strong erections. I gently caressed his jaw, kissing his forehead from time to time as we stared at the beautifully decorated ceiling above his comfortable bed.

“Will, can we talk?” I felt him shifting abruptly.

“Always, my love.” I turned towards him and pressed my lips onto his.

He sat up, supporting his weight with his left arm while extending his legs to the side. In that position he looked like Apollo, a gorgeous, sun kissed god with hairs of sunlight and a body worthy only of divinity. I cherished those moments in which he was exposed, completely naked next to me with his muscles relaxed, making only the necessary movements to support his body and tensing slightly to show his youth.

“I am again in Her Majesty’s good graces,” he said excitedly.

I smiled and nodded in approval. “I am most happy to hear this.”

He seemed encouraged by my smile and shifted into me, his face coming near mine. Whatever he wanted to tell me had to be whispered. He swallowed deeply, took a breath in and said, “I am going to Italy,” while puckering his fists tight with excitement. He embraced me in celebration, though this news was not received with the same emotion by both of us.

I remained silent, stunned. He was again in the Queen’s graces and wanted to leave? Go even further away from me?

After a long minute, he stopped the contact, realizing it one sided, and looked at me in surprise and confusion.

“Are you not joyous, Will?” he asked while raising his eyebrows and looking deep into my eyes to examine my feelings.

“I am, of course,” I barely uttered. My words brought back the smile on his beautiful face so I continued my line of thought “But I don’t understand why you would want to leave.”

He stared at me in disbelief for a long second, then turned his head slightly to the side, examining me, trying to understand if my words had been released as a joke.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked frantically, not understanding my point. He let go of the slight embrace he was still holding and escaped from the ties of the bed, searching for a shirt to cover himself with.

“I just thought, now that you are once again a loved Earl at court, that things would go back to the way they were,” I stupidly said.

He looked shocked, gazing at me as if I were a madman.

“What are you trying to say, Will?” Henry demanded with a slight raise of tone.

“That I don’t want to lose you,” I blurted out.

We both remained silent, holding each other’s stare. Henry was the first to break the interlocked silent dialogue of gazes and approached me on the bed. He sat next to me yet again and grabbed my face in his hands, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, Will,” he said, while pressing his mouth on mine. I parted my lips to allow his tongue to slip through and tangle with my own. My Earl breathed into my mouth “Do you hear me? I love you.” I nodded and let him mount me while I held him tight. He loved me, I reassured myself while forcing my chest to bury the anguish and fear.

I invited Henry to the theatre the first time we playedRomeo and Juliet. He couldn’t have been happier or more proud. My lover came dressed in gold, his hair neatly tied and sat in the first floor stalls, along with some other court members and the Earl of Essex, whom I met that very afternoon before the play started. Henry brought his friend backstage to introduce me as his ‘greatest joy’ and almost kissed me in front of everyone.

In my presence and with the fellow actors he could reveal his true self, an excited young man who felt overly satisfied with having a work written in his honour, but as soon as he stepped onto the stalls he transformed into an imposing, powerful man, one of the most privileged people in England.

In his honour, even though it would be Richard’s role from then onwards, I played Romeo and recited my love to my beloved Earl every time I had a chance, shouting my feelings from the stage into his big green eyes.

After the play, Henry took me to his home, which in time, had become our nest of love, and we ate and drank our fullest, celebrating the resounding success. Amongst cries, the public cheered for over five minutes.

“You are officially the most famous playwright in all the country,” Henry cheered while clinking his wine glass with mine.

I felt proud; I knew the play was a success and felt overjoyed that Henry loved it so much. I spotted him standing and clapping or sneakily using a satin scarf to wipe his tears during the death scenes.

That night, his bedroom became the altar where I was the sacrifice. Henry took me in every manner imaginable, slowly at first, then ferociously fast, until we were both at the end of our strength. It was past three after midnight when Henry rose from the bed, officially ending our lovemaking. He poured himself a glass of wine, which we now always had in the bedroom, and turned to face me, the moonlight shining over his naked body, making his translucent skin glow.

“Will, I will spend more time at court from now on,” he said before taking a big sip of wine.

“Oh?” I could only respond.

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