I was flat on my stomach, head still pillowed on my arms, body still pleasantly humming with delight.He didn’t say anything at first but reached out a hand very slowly as though he thought I might pull away. He brushed a few hairs out of my face, tucking them carefully behind my ear, and then ran his fingertips down the contour of my cheek to my chin. Proving my shape to all of his senses, perhaps, finding a new way to see me. With his hesitance came a vulnerability, and I could read more than I usually did in his expression. The boy he had once been, the man he had become, the one still shaping the other day by day whether he acknowledged it or not.“I’ve never done this,” he whispered, seeming concerned.“Done what?”“Post-coital demonstrations of affection.”Turning my head a little, I caught one of his fingertips between my teeth for a second, then let it slide free from my lips with a pop. “You’re doing fine.”I resisted the impulse to tell him to do what came naturally.
