Title: Instamatics 10/11/00 1/1, #64
Guest Author: kimberlite
Archive: Please ask.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Todd Haynes, Miramax, etc.
Feedback: Please, to kimberlite@cox.net
Notes: Many thanks to Alex for beta, for all her encouragement, and for letting me frolic in her playground.

Bright afternoon light streams in through the curtains, illuminating the bed we sleep in. Our lifestyle is so frenetic that taking the time to see him like this, relaxed and quiet in sleep, is unusual -- but certainly not unwelcome.

He's so vibrant, so primal, so unpretentious in his reactions. He's the only one I know who will tell me when I do something stupid. The first time he was blunt with me I was shocked and hurt, but now I see his honesty as a gift. He doesn't want image or pretense to come between us.

He's so beautiful. I love his solid strength, his smooth skin, his ever-changing eye color. I love the hungry look he gets when he wants to fuck. I love to tease him, stalking him then gladly playing prey to his predator, thrilling to the chase, the kill. He is so dominant that surrendering to him is simply instinctual -- the natural order of things.

And yet, even as he unconsciously exudes raw sex appeal, he can be tender and...vulnerable -- like now. His normally pale flesh glows honey-gold in the sun, splendidly naked and exposed. I want to start at the tips of his toes and kiss my way up his body to the top of his head, imprint forever the taste, the scent, the feel of his skin.

In sleep, his often-furrowed brow is smooth, unmarred by his turbulent emotions. I reach out, touching just the tips of my fingers to the cleft in his chin. He is unique -- such a complex mixture of pain and anger, joy and love. I trace his lips, remembering the feel of them on my lips, my nipples, my cock. Dropping my fingers to the right, I trace the cluster of small moles next to his mouth. His entire body is speckled with these blemishes. I move up to his forehead, lightly caressing the two spots above his left eye. Finishing my impromptu tour of his face, I find myself touching the dark mole on his right cheek.

As the king of perfection, I find it ironic that his moles are my favorite part of him. While I contemplate the perfection of his imperfections he opens his eyes and blinks sleepily at me.

"Hey."

His rumbling greeting rolls over me and my stomach flutters. He smiles and stretches, and desire shoots through me tingling down to my toes.

"Hey yourself." He robs me of coherence.

Twisting onto his side he scoots closer to me. He's smiling that predatory smile of his, and I'm melting beneath the heat of his gaze.

"Wanna fuck?" His eyes are shining and his tongue snakes out to wet his lips.

"Oh yeah." I want to give myself totally, need to belong to him.

He rolls on top of me, covering my body with his heat. I feel safe and protected and complete. His kisses are hungry, demanding, and I respond with abandon.

I watch his face as he thrusts inside me, seeing the pleasure bursting through me mirrored in his eyes. He is gorgeous in the throes of passion. The moles on his face form a constellation that I will recognize for an eternity. I focus on his right cheek, my entire awareness contracting to the single dark point.

We climax and my universe is filled with stars.