Page 54 of Blue Umbrella Sky
But that was another day, another time. Another Milt.
Today simply felt different, washed new.
Milt thrust his hips outward and up a little, more fully into Billy’s hand. Just that movement caused his heart to race, his knees to weaken, and his focus to blur just a little. There seemed no recourse for the moment other than to lean in and kiss Billy.
Their lips came together awkwardly, laughably. In his head Milt had a strange thought.I want him to sing “My Funny Valentine” for me sometime.It seemed, for just one moment, neither of them knew what to do. Open lips or closed? A peck or a lingering, full-throttle kiss?
The one thing Milt knew for certain—even though it had been a long time since he’d found himself in such a situation with a man—was don’t ask, just do.
So he opened his mouth and went in for a kiss of the full-throttle variety. Billy’s mouth, even this early in the morning, was clean, delightfully sweet, tasting faintly of mint. Their tongues dueled, and the dance was graceful. Billy’s blond whiskers, not all that visible, were, however, tactile, feeling rough, sexy against Milt’s face. Milt thought he could almost—almost—be satisfied with simply standing here and kissing him. Holding him close. There was a discreet kind of magic in simply holding him, feeling this solidity of another human being close.
It had been so long! He felt like a man who’d been dying of thirst suddenly getting water. The slaking of his need approached the province of miracle. Milt thought, for these past several months, that he’d never have this again. And yet here the gift of Billy had been, not so patiently waiting, all along. All Milt had to do was open his arms and accept.
He pulled away for a moment to stare into Billy’s crystalline gaze. “You’ve been here the whole time, haven’t you?” Milt felt a rush of emotion he couldn’t quite label. Was he feeling joy? Hope? Desire?
In the end, labels didn’t matter. The electric happiness coursing through him was enough. It didn’t need a name, did it?
“What do you mean?” Billy asked.
“Never mind. I think I was asking that question more of myself.” He took Billy’s face in his hands. “Do you want to go in the bedroom?”
“Do you think we’re moving too fast?” Billy wondered.
“Too fast? Too fast?” Milt laughed. “Are you kidding? I think we’ve maybe been moving too slow.” He sighed. “I’ve been so caught up in grief, in mourning, in wondering if I could ever feelanythingagain, if I was even allowed to feel anything again, that I failed to see the wonderful thing that was right before my eyes. That wonderful thing is you, Billy Blue. It’s you.” Milt didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. Could he dare to do both?
He was free to do whatever he pleased! He was his own man.
Billy pulled away slightly, letting Milt’s caressing hands drop away. He looked up at Milt shyly. His voice was soft, gentle when he spoke. “No. We haven’t been moving too slow. Although I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought that same thing many, many times. But Milt, honey, you needed that time to process your pain.” Billy shook his head. “And you may never get over that pain, not completely. I accept that. And you have to as well. I think you’re beginning to—and that fills my heart with joy. But no to the too slow. Just right. Just absolutely right. Things come to us when we’re ready.”
Milt smiled. “How did you get to be so wise?”
“Ah. I don’t know about that.” Billy looked a little abashed—the reddish glow at his cheeks making him look even more handsome. He cocked his head. “Is that trip to the bedroom still on offer?”
Milt smiled and wrapped his arms around Billy, pulling him close once more so that their bodies were almost one—in alignment. Milt nodded and then pressed his forehead to Billy’s. “What about breakfast?”
“Hmmm. I think I need to work up a little more appetite first.” And Billy broke away, took Milt’s hand, and led him back to the bedroom.
Chapter 20
IT HADonly been a couple of weeks, yet Billy felt like he’d been with Milt for a long, long time. When he stood next to him, there was something solid there, a sense that Milt wasn’t going anywhere.
And neither was Billy.
Since that morning two weeks and two days ago, when Billy had emboldened himself to simply enter Milt’s trailer without knocking, they’d seldom been apart. Billy’s own trailer had an air of neglect—the only movement dust motes floating in shafts of sunlight. The bed, unmade, stayed unmade. The dishes, stacked neatly in the drainer on the counter next to the sink, remained there. The jute window shade above Billy’s bed remained at half-mast—forever.
Other than to pick up clothes and toiletries, Billy hadn’t been back. It simply no longer felt like home, because Milt and Ruby weren’t there. Home wasn’t a place, Billy reasoned, but where the things and people you loved were. He suddenly felt, maybe for the first time, that he had a place to be. And that was a very good thing.
They’d come together that morning a couple of weeks ago like two practiced souls. Or an old married couple. A couple that continued to take pleasure in each other’s bodies, knowing, comfortably, exactly which buttons to push (and lick and caress) to bring the other absolute joy. They’d simply merged. It was as though they’d already mapped and memorized the contours of each other’s bodies. Where with past lovers there had been gracelessness and awkwardness at first, taking time to get into the groove of wants and needs, Billy didn’t find that to be true with Milt. Their intimate choreography was flawless—maybe because the emotion backing it up allowed for no error. How could there be mistakes when you cared so much? When there existed so much passion?
They’d made love every night and every morning since Billy had moved in. Only once had this unspoken decision to be so totally together been brought up. Billy recalled the short conversation now, standing in biting cold and fluttering snowflakes on top of a hill, surrounded by tombstones.
“Do you think we’re being rash?” Milt had asked one sun-drenched morning, wrapped in sheets slightly damp with sweat.
It was maybe the third day of what Billy thought of as their union. Their bodies were close, slick with sweat and come. Billy’s head was on Milt’s chest. Milt’s arm was wrapped around him. Billy was just beginning to drift off into blessed early morning sleep with the thoughtThere’s no place I’d rather be. In all the wonderful places of the world I could choose, this is where I’d pick. The best.“Rash? You don’t have a rash, do you? You didn’t get it from me!” Billy laughed, snuggling closer, smelling the clean scent on Milt’s neck.
“C’mon. I’m serious. I know what Dane would say.”
“What would Dane say?” Billy had a feeling, just from Milt making this statement, that Dane would say something very sensible. He wasn’t wrong in his guess.
