I think this is my third sketchbook of Quentin-art. I guess I don’t really realize, when I really get started, just how much he inspires me, how many sketches of him I do. Most of them are quick sketches but it still is pretty easy to tell it’s him, they’re not just shapes but they’re not cleaned up, not shaded, not coloured in. I also don’t just sketch once on a single page and move onto the next, I the whole page, nearly to the edges and back.
I don’t know what I’d feel, deep down in my gut, if he were to find out these sketchbooks. I mean, I’m pretty sure he understands I do care to him to a certain point but it’s that very point I know he doesn’t grasp just yet and I don’t want to be the one to spill everything. I want him to be able to work out the details of how he feels, then I can just open my arms wide and tell him I feel the same. It seems the safer pathway.
At this point, I have two chests under my bed and both are locked. Though one is locked with a key and the other a number code. Ironically enough, it’s the art-chest that is under the key. I wouldn’t be too worried if somehow he was curious enough to try and work out the number combination to find out what was in the toy-chest, the adult chest, but my art chest seems more important, more precious and it needs to be kept under closer watch until things work out for us, should they work out for us but it is looking good. One day following the other. A little more with each sunset and sunrise.
I’ve started working on that painting a bit more. I defined the sketch more and I set out a few colours to get myself started on this project that I know will take me a while. If it turns out to be like most of my other bigger projects where I throw my all into it and I’m never satisfied, it might never be finished but I’ll try to go easier on myself. I doubt I’ll manage but it’s the thought that matters, I know.
He’s laughing, out there in the living room and it’s tempting to go and see what he’s doing but that would keep me from working on this piece, might be for the best. I did tell myself I wouldn’t work on this painting while he was in the house or awake, just in case. Alright, I guess that settles that. The canvas goes back carefully against the wall with its cover where I know it is absolutely safe and my feet lead me back out of my little studio and into the living room where he’s sitting on the couch and watching—are those cartoons?
I never thought he’d be the kind to like watching cartoons like these, the funny kind. Like the Roadrunner and Bugs Bunny. I guess I learn a little more about him every day. It’s nice to know he can laugh more freely now. Every day is a little bit better with our lives. I’m still the one that goes through the mail though we haven’t received anything suspicious in a couple of months now. It makes me think they might have given up on their crazy idea of taking-over-the-world.
I mean honestly, what kind of bullshit is that? Folks trying to take over the world resulted in wars, in deaths and fights and decay and abandonment. The world should remain a free place as it mostly is now—in a very general sense, mind you—and that’s my thought on it.
I lean down over the back of the couch and kiss his cheek. He startles and blushes brightly, shooting me a look that means somehow I’m in trouble, playful trouble by the quirk of his lips but trouble. I blink innocently at him, or as innocently as I might ever be able to and I laugh as I straighten. “You looked like you needed a distraction!”
That one is a lie but still. He looks at me a moment more, quirks a brow and grins at me. I’m not sure what I’ve just gotten myself into but I feel some heat rise into my face. “If I needed a distraction, you could at least have kissed me properly, or you know, sneaked in a grope.”
“Wait, what?” That’s it, this has to be one of my numerous fantasies. I must have fallen asleep or in a doze while working or sketching again. I have one sketchbook with pages filled with nothing but absolutely naughty images, it’s that one sketchbook I’m most afraid of him finding it. What would he think of me, really?
I’m staring at him now, cheeks flaming and he’s still grinning, snickering lightly. “Remember a couple of weeks back, you went off to that one store where, when you come back, you never show me what you bought?”
Yeah, I’m aware of what that store is, it’s the store I get the toys and the lube from. “I was curious, really. After you went to sleep two days ago, I went out and had a walk. You find me more than a little confused when I walk in there but the woman behind the counter was really helpful and I got a few books after I managed to sputter out what kind of knowledge I was after. What I wanted to learn more about.”
Okay, now I’m even more sure I don’t really want to know where this is going but it’s going there and there’s no stopping the conversation. He’s been to the store and he’s bought a few books, he says. They don’t sell just any books after all. Everything is adult themed in there and I really don’t know what to think so I sort of just flop down on the couch next to him. I don’t think my legs could hold me up for much longer with this conversation as it is.
“They’re interesting books. One of them is called the Kama Sutra.” Well hell. “Not that I’ve started in on that one, just looked at some of the art in there. One of the other book is a story book, sort of. Has short stories and all, that’s the one I’ve been reading and there is so much to this whole sex thing I hadn’t realized about.”
Well, at least he’s thinking it in terms of ‘sex thing’ and not ‘relationship thing’. That makes me feel a tiny bit better, really. “What brought on the grope thing, though?”
“Oh!” and he’s back to blushing ever brightly himself but there he leans in and oh, the feel of his lips against mine, I think I could melt. It’s not as awkward as it could have been, it’s a close-mouthed kiss but I feel something flutter warmly in me and I sigh against him, closing my eyes and I feel his lips quirk into a smile. He’s pleased to himself. He doesn’t pull back yet, as if he’s testing things out, getting a feel for kissing me, I guess. When he does, his eyes are bright and it’s easy to see that he really is pleased with himself.
“It’s just something I read in one of the stories, sorry. Though I’m not really sorry. I mean, I’m not about to rush. I know you really like me and I think I feel the same. I feel really warm when we’re together and like I wouldn’t want to let anyone in the world really have you around if I can’t be with you. I’m not sure how to explain it.” He pauses and breathes in before he shifts and there, he moves to settle himself against me, shoulder to shoulder though it’s more shoulder to arm and his head against my shoulder, I can feel him breathing against my neck and I’m sure a shower might not hurt me in the near by future. “I don’t really want to rush into doing those physical things I’ve read about in the books but I think it might not hurt to admit aloud that things might move forward on their own now that I’ve admitted to things, right?”
I must have died, this has to be it. Though his warm breath against my neck is straining my control. I wouldn’t jump him but my libido still has a pretty good control over me and I don’t know how long I can keep my hormones from taking over and letting him know how much I like him right where he’s at. I think that would be rushing though. “That sounds about right, though now I’ll be absolutely honest with you, Quentin. The way you’re settled and just… my neck is really sensitive and you’re sort of turning me on. I don’t want you to think I’m rushing but I might just need to have myself a bit of private time before too long.”
“Oh. Uh…” and he’s now looking up to me, his lashes halfway down over those gorgeous eyes that are almost like molten gold. “Well, you could show me how you do it.”
Oh hell. I guess this is a big step forward in our relationship and I swallow against the sudden desire that is trying to overwhelm me. One thing after the other. I breathe in deep and straighten lightly, nudging him to do the same. I turn my gaze on his and now I feel those strings tighten to the point of no return around my heart. His gaze is so open, so trusting. “First things first. Before we jump head in into any of this. I really, really like you. I’m pretty sure I love you. I’m not expecting you to feel ready to say those words yet, I don’t mind. But we’re going to do things right. Do you want to me mine?”
I don’t want to use labels. ‘Boyfriends’ is just one of these terms and ‘lover’ isn’t fitting yet. ‘Being mine’ is broad, it can be emotional as much as it can be physical and he’ll still be the one to set the boundaries and the speed at which we travel towards them.
He blinks at me, his head canting but he smiles, oh he smiles and I do feel myself melting utterly. “I think I could like the idea of being yours, Yael. If that means I don’t have to share you with anyone else this way, then yes.”
Relief, I’ve never felt relief flood me in this way but it’s there and I lean closer to him, I press my lips to him. I’ve never actually kissed anyone before him and I know we’ll learn together but the feel of his lips is just perfect and how he breathes that sweet little sigh, I know we’re on a good path for now.
I’ll be sketching so much more from now on that I know I really can. I might even show him some of those countless pages I have of nothing but him. The tame stuff first. Of course.