Azmir’s body shakes. I straightaway throw my arms around his wide upper torso to anchor him. His cry is dry and soundless. He’s grieving. My heart is bleeding for him as I plant the side of my face on his shoulder.
“When I got the call, after processing the fact that I’ll never see Kid again, all I could think was, I’d given up my crown only to lose a solid soldier and…” He can’t finish his thought. I assume it’s too painful to pursue. I hold him tighter. His hot solid body suddenly develops goose bumps all over. I provide chaste kisses from his ear, down to the end of his shoulder. “You’re going to leave me,” his baritone chokes out.
“Oh, baby!” I implore.
I can’t get close enough to him. Can’t embrace him tight enough to bury him inside of my protectiveness. I know I can’t conceivably hide his lanky frame in my arms, but I try to engulf as much of him as I could.
I shake my head violently although he can’t see me. “Uh-un!” I grunt emphatically. “Never!” I declare even louder. I didn’t have a reason to leave him when all things was right with the world, and therefore in good conscience could never see myself leaving him while he’s wounded like this. “No way…not now.”
Not ever!
“Yes, you are. I’ve involved you in a world that you gave no consent to. I thought I could devise this error-proof exit out of the game and create a perfect world for you. I thought I wielded that type of control.” He shakes his head somberly. “I don’t control shit,” his voice cracks.
“But I do,” I state firmly. I grab Azmir’s chin to bring his face to mine. I need to peer into his eyes, to beckon his sober comprehension. “I control my actions. I may not always make the call for my heart, the heart that you captured almost on sight. Conversely, I’m very much in control of how I react to what my heart feels. I don’t like that you kept an entire life from me, but I know who you are, the man you are at core.”
“Do you?” Azmir asks with ghostly eyes. “Do you have confidence in who I am now that all of this shit has been dumped on your lap? I thought I could insulate you from it all, and look what’s happened. God only knows what shit can jump out from my past that will have you hightailing out of my life for good. I couldn’t survive that shit.” He entreats me with his defeated eyes.
There’s silence as we regard each other intensely, our strong willed spirits battling for dominance. I search for the convincing words my soul wants to convey, but I can’t. I’m not confident that they’d accurately communicate what I need Azmir to know. There’s only one way that comes to mind.
“Are you committed to me and only me?”
“Y-yes,” he sputters.
“Will you always protect me?”
“Always,” he declares without a second of hesitation.
“Can you love me forever?”
Azmir’s chestnuts dance in my eyes as he decrees, “With everything breath in my body, using every fiber of my being.”
My lips twitch into a smile, feeling relieved for using his words from that night on the beach of Tahiti, after he’d proposed to me.
“Why, Mr. Jacobs, I do believe we have an official Jacobs’ language,” I smile, feeling an overflow of contentment with his big body wrapped protectively in my arms.
Azmir doesn’t reply. In fact, his scowl is still in place, confusing me until he brings his hand to my face and covers my mouth with his own. It starts slowly and melodic with his tongue timidly darting in my mouth. His confidence hasn’t fully returned. Right away, I recognize I have to give him more time, and possibly coax its resurgence.
Breaking away momentarily and regretfully leaving the warm dwellings of his delectable mouth, I reach over to the nightstand for the bottle of eucalyptus oil. Azmir watches absorbedly as I position my arms beneath his, reach for his semi-erect penis, and stroke it in my hand. He grows steely in my palm and once I see his gaining, with my right hand I manage to unscrew the top off the bottle and pour it onto him, measuring the tilt of my shaking hand. After closing the bottle, I bring both hands around him and slide up and down, dispersing the oil around is length. His skin is silky and smooth around a steel rod. Per usual, Azmir’s abdominal muscles roll at my stroke, telling of his pleasure. I observe his clutched eyelids and slack jaw from his profile.
“Feels good?” I whisper teasingly in his ear.
Azmir doesn’t answer, he opens his eyes and watches fixedly and I feel the echoing of stifle groans in his back. I tighten my grip on him and can feel the evidence of my own arousal in my crotch. But this isn’t about me; it’s safer this way.