(Sorry its a slight cross post)
Title: Sleep of Ages
Summary: no, no, no, you have to read!
Sleeping with him is such a glorious entrapment. His bed or mine we lie wrapped around each other, protecting the other from nighttime demons. We always lie facing each other, chest-to-chest; our faces inches apart or buried in the other’s neck. We never let go as we sleep and always awake to the other’s embrace.
When we sleep together it is still and peaceful. We do not fidget or roll around because we would never want to leave the other against us. Lying together keeps my dreams sunny and light, endless spin of colors. He does that for me. And in my turn I know my body next to him chases away his nightmares. Next to me he does not dream at all, no visions of his parent’s death to haunt him. The warmth beside us keeps our minds at ease; the arms around each other keep us safe.
I like to watch him sleep, as I’m sure he does for me. A few stray strands of his raven hair always fall in his face, casting little lines of shadow over his eyelids. His hair is so soft, as wild as a jungle of weeds, weeds of black roses. Hair is a point of passion between us. He says my hair is like the brightest fire in the world; like warm blood when he’s in a morbid mood. I tell him his hair is like the darkest night ever, a black hole to swallow me up. As he sleeps I like to run my hand over that hair, tangle my fingers within its delicate waves. A mop on top of his head, it’s always a mess but I would have it no other way. I can get lost in it.
When he wakes I am greeted by emerald green eyes, regarding only me. His eyes must be truly emeralds for they are the greatest treasure to me. Green pools peer outwards, beckoning me to spring forth, dive in, and drown in their glory. When those emeralds look to me I can see nothing else in all the world.
Following down from forest eyes are perfect lips. Parted slightly as he breathes lips rest close to mine, flushed pink from kisses. His lips are full and match just right with mine. Against my own his lips feel like fresh flower petals, soft but also so fresh and alive. The kisses sent from those plush lips send sparks and fire coursing through my veins. Those are lips that ignite passion and spark the tenderest love. Wordlessly his lips tell me I am his and I agree.
In the early morning when we wake we say nothing, just look at each other. Within that morning stillness it seems that any words would shatter the seclusion we have to each other. Even when we wake we do not let go, but stay held fast to each other incase this morning is a dream, and if we let go the other may vanish into dust. Arms stay warm around back and waist, foreheads gently against each other pushing up fringe. To any outsider we must look a confusion of limbs and hair. But I can tell where he is; feel every bit of him against me. There we lie together in a sleep of ages that I would never leave.