Tuesday

And in this anointing, in my insanity, I find still more pleasure, sweet and nasty, perfect and profane, my brother's seed warming my womb.

I clinch involuntarily around his cock. My sheath milks, clutches, until finally the earth moving beneath me subsides to tremors and becomes aftershocks so that I am poised there, in his arms, spent and boneless in my satiation.

My sigh catches on his shoulder. We are utterly still and I am marking the passage of time in the gradually diminishing pulses of Yuki's body inside mine. I can hear the beating of his heart and the faraway, indistinct, pulse of people and cars and the world. I hug my lover, my brother, tighter, inhaling the scent that is him, that is us, and wishing that I had something profound to say...some bit of poetry to quote, some promise that would carry us beyond what we know is coming and into what we wish could be...but I do not. So I say nothing.

It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteen year.