Tag: happily ever after

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“You put him away baby,” I say, pulling Jesse into a hug. Everyone is in the backyard celebrating but I want a moment with him myself.
“I did,” he whispers, voice cracking.
“He can’t haunt you anymore. He’s gone for good.”
Jesse beams. “Good. I still can’t believe I just …let him control me. Hurt me. What kind of person was I back then?”
“You were different back then. You needed help, and he took advantage of that. You got it, you fought back. You are stronger now. You are unstoppable now, especially today.”
Jesse blushes and he sniffles. He’s standing on the curb so we’re face to face; Jesse wraps his arms around my neck, and I embrace his torso and kiss him. The noise from the backyard is faint and distant, and I savor his taste and heat. We break when our lungs are starved from air.
“Now, I can tell you my good news,” I say after I catch my breath.
Jesse’s eyes go up. “What? What good news?”
I grin. “I got into MIT.”
Jesse shouts. “Oh my god! Are you fucking serious? You got IN??”
“And they’re gonna give me a scholarship for the first year!”
Jesse whoops, and then kisses me again.
I squeeze him tight. “I know you love Minnesota, but come with me to Boston, Jesse. It’ll still be cold, I promise.”
Jesse glances down shy. “Yes.”
I blink. “Yes?”
“I told myself if you asked me to go, I would say yes. I love Minnesota, but I need to leave. I see Nick everywhere, every time I drive past a place he hung out…” Jesse shudders.
I rub his back. “Yeah, Nick is staying here. He’s never been to Boston. It hasn’t been tainted.”
“It’s a city for us, right, babe?” Jesse asks.
I consider his face, falling in love with every feature. “God, it’s so nice to see you happy, smiling and laughing again.”
Jesse blushes. “It’s cause I met you- oh no, Jordan, don’t cry! No no, baby, no, it’s ok.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m sorry. This court business just stressed me out so bad.”
Jesse dries my eyes with his shirt, fussing. “There, there.”
“Shit, I really love you Jesse.”
Jesse gives me a smile so beautiful that makes my chest hurt. “I love you too. You are the boyfriend I always thought I never deserved.”
We were still kissing when his mother comes to get us for cake.

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Captions are fictional. Today’s caption is inspired by Sia’s Unstoppable.

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“Boy? Boy are you awake?”
“Mmmnnn. Yez-Zir.”
“Poor thing, you are so tuckered out from the demonstrations we did today. You were such a good boy today. Made me very proud.”
“I love you Sir. Anything for you Sir,” the slave murmured, leaning against his Master’s touch.
“I love you too boy. You are going to fall asleep in the tub if we leave you in here any longer. Give me the shampoo, I’m going to finish washing you.”
The slave flushed. Being washed by his Master sounded wonderful as it was rare. He handed his Master the bottle. Moments later, strong fingers began to massage his scalp. The reward was so lovely that the slave could not even articulate how happy he was, he just groaned. He fell asleep during rinsing, and did not remember a thing until he woke up the next morning in his Master’s bed.

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Captions are fictional.

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sadisticazazel:

“You’re safe now, boy. I’ve got you.”

“You’re safe now, boy. I’ve got you.”
Seamus hiccuped and let his forehead rest on his big, strong boyfriend’s shoulder. “Why is my mother so mean to me, Jo?” he whispered.
“Because she can’t ruin you too.”
“…What? What do you mean?”
“Your mother has always been a petty, jealous, narcissitic woman, Seamus. I know she went through some tough stuff, but instead of using that as a challenge to overcome she just let it eat her up inside. She blames everyone else for her imperfect life, although she never tried to fix it or better herself. Does that sound right?”
Seamus niffled and nodded. “Yeah, it does,” he said sadly. “Everything I did growing up had to be about her in some way. ‘You want to do tennis? Do you want everyone in town to think I’m some preppy tennis mom when I’m obviously not? We’re eating Spaghetti-os here! I work so hard around here and you just want to take advantage of money I don’t have. There are things I want too, Seamus…’ blablabla…in that screechy voice too.”
Jo sighed softly. “I know it was hard for you, baby. But she’s so mad she couldn’t ruin you too. That she couldn’t drag you down, beat out your spirit, defeat you. She wants you to be more miserable than she is, so she can feel better than someone. And you won’t let her. All you do is succeed and win at life.”
“You mean it?” Seamus asked, looking up at his lover.
“I do. You got straight As, got a scholarship to college, graduated with top honors, got a job offer right out of school at that awesome fashion company you loved… baby, you’re killing it.”
“Plus I have a hot boyfriend,” Seamus joked.
“That you do,” Jo replied, kissing Seamus on the forehead again.

Seamus hiccuped. “Still, despite everything, I want my mother to love me. It just hurts to think she will never love me like I want her to.”
“Oh honey, don’t cry,” Jo said in a soothing voice, pushing those tears away with the pad of his thumb. “It’s ok. You don’t need it. Hell, she doesn’t deserve your love. She had the chance and she squandered it. I don’t think you should give her another chance. I wouldn’t.”
Seamus sniffled and tightened his arms around Jo. “You know, I just realized, how you must feel.”
“Me?” Jo responded, surprised.
“Yes. You were so considerate when you were dating me, always being so proactive about winning me over. Always doing little things for me. I made you earn my love and made you wait before I gave it, but I turn around and just throw it at my mother who doesn’t even cherish it. God I’m so stupid.”
“No no, honey, no,” Jo said firmly. “Familial love is different. It’s deeper. I’m grateful you have let me into your life, but we were strangers once. It’s different.”
Seamus didn’t appear to have heard him. “I should be focusing on who wants my love and who cherishes it. You. You deserve it. I want to give it to you instead. Not her. But still, why do I still feel guilty at the idea of cutting my mother off?”
Jo was ready with an answer. “Because you still think that if you do one thing – say something, do something, become something, she will love you. Or maybe, that something will happen to her, and she’ll change.”

Seamus exhaled softly, his shoulder’s sagging. “Yeah…I think that’s it.”
“Honey, nothing you do will be good enough for her. You could become straight, cure cancer, become the President, marry an actress, win the lottery, and buy your mom a house and a car, and she will still make you feel bad, tear you down, doubt yourself, and try to make it all about her.”
Seamus lifted his tear-stained face. “Oh my god, you’re right. You’re so right. I mean, I will never not be the ‘stupid faggot’ she hates that I am, so there’s no hope for the rest. I sure as hell won’t be curing cancer, and I haven’t even dreamed of giving up my awesome job to try and please her.”
Jo beamed. “That’s my smart boy. And you’re following her on Facebook right? If something bad happens, you’ll hear about it from someone and we can talk about it then.”
Seamus nodded. Jo pinched Seamus’s chin with his finger. “Your life is here. With me, and my love. Can I have your phone?”
Seamus furrowed his brow, pulled it out of his pocket, and held it over. Jo fussed with it and handed it back. 
“What did you do?”
“Look in your contacts.”
Seamus did. Under where it used to say ‘Mom” it now said, “Janet. Do not answer.”
“Janet…” Seamus said. 
“Just another name on the list now. Besides, if you want a mother figure, you can borrow one of mine. I have two, remember, and god they will mother you to pieces if you let them.”
“…Really? They would?”
“Oh yeah. By the way, why don’t we ask them if we can go visit them out in New Mexico for a weekend?”
Seamus perked up. “I’d like that. I think I’m just sort of missing having a family right now.”
“I understand, sweet boy. You can start with me, and mine, and one day we’ll make our family.”
“Like…with kids?” Seamus asked shyly.
“One day,” Jo responded. “But we have to get married first.”
Seamus blushed and tucked his head against Jo’s pectoral again. “I’d like that.”
Jo tried not to grin as widely as he was. “So would I. But I would to propose to you proper first. I’ll get my grandmother’s ring from Mama Sue when we go visit ok?”
“Oh Jo, you are so wonderful to me,” Seamus said.
“This is what love is supposed to be like, Seamus.”

Seamus started to answer when his phone rang. A dark look crossed his face when he looked at the screen. “It’s M… ..It’s Janet.” Jo didn’t say anything as Seamus studied the phone. It rang and rang. He thumbed it to mute, and stuck it in his pocket. “I don’t want to talk to Janet right now. I want to talk about this trip.”

Jo cheered. “Yah! That’s my boy.” He kissed Seamus hard and made him giggle. “You wanna go get pizza and ice cream for dinner?”
“Oh hell yes. …Can we have hot sex on the sofa when we get back?”
Jo gave his lover a smoldering smirk. “Seamus baby, the answer to that question will never be no.”

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Text is fictional.

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Birdie glanced outside the slat window. “Oh look, the chickadees are back at the bird feeder. That must mean…yep, the doves are under it, picking up the mess. It looks like the squirrels are keeping their distance. The proofing thing we rigged worked. Aw, they’re so cute and fat. Probably starving in all this cold. Hm, I wonder what those birds are? Warblers maybe? Purple martins? Probably just a type of finch. Wonder if we’ll see the cardinal pair from last year this winter. Gosh, they’re just so fun to watch. Nom nom nom! What do you think Sir?” 
When there wasn’t a reply, BIrdie glanced over his shoulder at his strong, swarthy Sir who was giving him the most unreadable, distant expression.
“Sir?” Birdie asked again. “Is everything alright?”
“I love you.”
BIrdie gasped softly. ‘Sir?” he squeaked.
Morgan’s cheeks turned ruddy under the close-cropped dark scruff of his beard. “I’m sorry, that just slipped out.”
“Did…did you mean it Sir?”
Morgan covered his face with his hand. “I … Yes. I do, Birdie. I was just sitting here, staring at beautiful sight of the back of you and I realized the reason I stopped chasing boyfriends so long ago is that I’m in love with you. I made these excuses to myself – that I was distracted, that I was busy with work, that our sex was holding me over, but I just….I just realized it. That butt is mine, and what it’s attached to, I want it to be mine forever.”

Birdie’s eyes went wide. His delicate hand was hovering over his mouth. “Morgan – I mean, Sir I – I – …I’m speechless.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I have breached our relationship. You are my houseboy. I have been inappropriate with you.” Sir began to get up. “I’m going out.”
“No no!” Birdie cried, walking over to his Sir and taking his hand in his. “I’m really happy you told me. Oh gosh, can’t you feel that I’m shaking? I’m the luckiest houseboy in the world.  A great job, a great life, and my deepest fantasy realized! It’s like Christmas has come early.”
Morgan blinked and choked. “Really..? You feel the same?”
“If not more. You’re my favorite man in the world,” Birdie admitted. “Oh gosh, I’m going to get emotional.”
Morgan chuckled to hide how flattered he was, and kissed his boy on the forehead. “Then get emotional. Get emotional for us if you want.”
“For both of us? …but Sir, your eyes are tearing up.”
“Oh come on Birdie, let an old man keep some of his dignity.”
Birdie giggled and nuzzled Morgan. “I love you too.”

They shared a kiss on the lips. Morgan glanced over Birdie’s shoulder. “Hey, the cardinal couple is back.”
“What? Really?”
Morgan pulled Birdie to the window, and they held hands as they watched the little creatures feast.

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Text is fictional.

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brief12h:

Relationship goals.

“Breakfast is served Sir!”
“Holy crap, look at that.”
“Waffles, poached eggs, blueberries and cream.”
“That looks delicious as it is unhealthy.”
Roland laughed. “That it is.” He sat the plates down, then put the cream down, and went to refill his boyfriend’s glass.
Tyge smiled  “I never used to look forward to breakfast until I started dating you. Especially after hot nights…”
Roland beamed. “Thank you. I love to please. I also like those hot nights”
Tyge took a big bite and groaned. “Mmnmm. Damn good.” He took a drink. “Speaking of your need to please…”
“Hm?”
“I like having you around,” Tyge began. “I’d…like you to stay around more. Like, in my house.”
Roland was paying attention now. 
“It feels stupid that you don’t live here. I’d like you to move in with me, and take care of me like you do now. I’d take care of you, if you continued to cook like this because damn I love your cooking. Also well…I have to admit, I’m falling in love with you and I want to see your smile every day.”
Roland blinked, his jaw slack. He put his fork down and bit his bottom lip hard. “Tyge Clay Daniels.” He held up a finger to get his emotions in check. “You continue to be the sweetest, most considerate boy I have ever had the joy of dating. And what’s the best about this is, is that you get me. You understand me. You don’t make fun of me that I like domestic stuff, you even encourage me, and you just make me feel so good about myself. I would love to move in with you. Oh god, I’m going to cry.”
Tyge chuckled. “There there, it’s ok.” He leaned over the table, cupped the back of Roland’s head and kissed him. “Don’t get tears on your waffles now.”
Roland laughed. “Yeah soggy waffles are gross.” He dabbed his eyes with the napkin. “Oh this is exciting! We can sleep together every night, and I can bring you tea in bed .. maybe not wearing anything..”
Tyge raised an eyebrow. “I would be very open to that idea.”
Roland smirked. “I bet you would. It’s going to be a long process to move in here but…I’m really happy Tyge. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“No, Roland, the pleasure is mine.”
“More waffles?”
“Yes please!”

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Text is fictional.

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fuckyeahdudeskissing:

Fuck Yeah Dudes Kissing. A place to see men kiss on Tumblr. Submit a kiss.

“We’re going to have a problem,” Evan murmured.
“I’m not seeing a problem. Clarify for me?” Joseph replied, his focus distant.
“Well, I’m not sure… mmn. How were gonna be able to make it through the wedding ceremony if I can’t stop kissing you.”
“You can’t?” Joseph asked, smiling.
“Nah. I mean, look at us. We can barely make it through the photographs.”
Joseph chuckles with Evan. “Well.” Mmnn. “What’s the problem again? I like kissing you.”
Evan nuzzled his lover. “Shit, I can’t remember…” he smiled. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Sure,” Joseph smiled. “It’ll make for cute pictures.”

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Text is fictional.

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“How are you doing?” Daniel asks gently. “Great! I’m almost done peeling these carrots. Everything else is measured out and ready.” I nearly take my finger off when I feel a slight touch on my ass. 
“Looks great. Can’t wait to taste this cake you’re making. Going to be delicious.”
“If I don’t forget an ingredient. Or mix up the sugar and salt. Or burn it.  Or burn the house down.” Daniel chuckles, then kisses my cheek. “You’ll be fine. I look forward to dessert.” He gives me another ass pat and then strolls back into the living room where the game has returned to the television.

I watch him go. His mildly possessive touches have left me feeling warm and smiley. For the first time in my life, I’m really, truly content. I had been so unhappy in previous relationships and I never knew why. Daniel understood though, more than I ever could. I just liked to please a man, make his meals, fold his socks, be there when he needed to rut… it was a bit simple, if not a bit of an outdated mentality, but it was more rewarding than any office job I ever could hold. Spending a Sunday afternoon inside, making a nice carrot cake for after Sunday’s dinner was so fulfilling. Plus, I could put the cake pieces in Daniel’s lunchboxes for the week and he would love that.

The best thing though was that Daniel really appreciated me. His supportive comments were so natural, so casual, as if this is just how it was supposed to me. Me, him – us – in our effortless roles. Most alphas I have met are rather aggressive bastards. Daniel  is unbelievably chill. I’m sure if some man tried to take ownership of me in a club, a beatdown would occur, but it would take a lot to provoke him into such a state. No, Daniel was a laid back-guy. He was just happy to appreciate the simple things in life – a cute boyfriend, a football game on the screen, craft beer – a nice middle class life. Plus, home-cooked food, made with love.

I wondered how he would feel if I started baking wearing only an apron.

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Text is fictional.

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I know you’ve fallen asleep over there, which I’m kind of glad about, because I kind of feel like I’m going to cry. I mean – how dumb would it look to start crying in the middle of a park? Someone would probably go – what an asshole, dude thinks the sky is so pretty he’s crying. Or they’d think I’m on drugs. The truth is, I’m not on drugs anymore. I say the words aloud, just to hear myself say the words and have them be true: “I’m not on drugs. I’m not on drugs anymore. I was on drugs, but I’m not anymore.”

It’s funny – back then when I was a walking poster-child of Florida’s Biggest Problem, I would say the same thing out loud just to cement my denial. I’m not on drugs. I just take them occasionally. Once a day. I mean, I have a job, I’m not living on the streets. I’m not a drug addict. Middle-class white guys are not addicts.
I was so full of shit. I am now somewhat amazed I was able to play the game of mental gymnastics with such Olympic-level skill. The side effects of the drugs were so gradual that I was watching out for them, but I wasn’t prepared for the side effect of lying. Just making shit up all the time is exhausting. Hiding what you’re doing becomes exhausting. The guilt..the lies…the shame. That nagging sense that you’re on the brink of losing control, the paranoia that all your friends know – but they couldn’t know could they?

They had to know about the Vicodin, cause of my car accident and the back pain. But they couldn’t know how many pills. They couldn’t have any idea about the Xanax. Or the Percocets. Or the occasional jag of heroin. They couldn’t know I was going to realtor open-houses to raid the medicine cabinet, or I’d been shopping doctors for prescriptions.

I glance over at Jeffrey. I can’t believe he stuck with me this whole fucking time. I was sure when I got back out of rehab, he would be gone. He was the one who threatened to leave me if I didn’t get some fucking help. I was so blown out at that point that I was negotiating in my head how I was going to get out of this with my little magic pills intact – just go to rehab enough to look clean sober, get myself back down to when I was down to a pill a day – when he didn’t notice – and he would take me back. Looking back on it, I’m disgusted with myself.

Jeffrey does not deserve me. He deserves someone so, so much better. So much more whole. Someone who was not an addict.

Yet he stuck with me through this whole damn time. He kept visiting me, bringing me food and things I needed. Books. Better sheets. Chapstick. And as the drugs began to leave my system, the guilt moved in. I was able to see this man I’d been dating with clear eyes again, and the love came back. And once I let the love do the thinking for me, it began to fight the addiction in full force. I didn’t want to be in love Jeffrey under the influence. I could not do that to him, and should never have done it in the first place. I fully expected to get out of rehab and he would be gone, and I could never tell him just how much his love saved me.

But Jeffery was there in his red sedan, waiting to pick me up from rehab, to take me back to our new apartment in a new neighborhood where we were going to start over. We didn’t go back to normal though. He was scared of me for a week, unsure if the old Brian was actually back. 

I learned that getting clean isn’t just one act. It comes in waves, and most of those waves involves becoming aware of all the damage you’ve caused. Jeffery didn’t trust me. He would check our friends’ medicine cabinets before we went over there. He checked my pockets. Initially, Jeffery declined intimacy, of close contact, and preferred being friends in the same apartment. I was annoyed at him at first for pushing me away, but then I realized it was because Jeffrery was scared I was going to backslide and he was going to be betrayed and have his heart hurt again. They don’t prepare you for that in rehab.

We went to couples therapy. It got better. We celebrated five years together. I lost my job cause of the addiction, but I got a new one. I squeeze Jeffrey’s hand. It’s still getting better, every day.

Love conquers all. Shit, I’m crying in a public park. What a white guy thing to do.

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Text is fictional.

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“What?” James asks, letting his hand hover over his rolls. I’m sure he’s thinking I’m mentally critiquing something about the way he’s holding chopsticks or eating his maki. When we go out for Japanese food, he always tries to impress me with his ease in adapting my culture and asks a lot of questions to get it right. But now, it’s not that.
I duck my face to hide my smile. “Nothing, nothing. I just…I like the view a lot. It seems stupid to say it loud but, I just realized that I could sit across from you like this for the rest of my life and be happy with it.  Only in the future, you’ll be wearing a button-up shirt, and then a polo, or maybe a cardigan, and …I don’t know. You’re still wearing a shirt from college.It just …feels like a beginning a guess.”
I busy myself with my miso, my face feeling hot.
James sets his chopsticks down and seems at loss for words.
“Seems stupid right?” I mutter, poking the tofu in the bowl.
“No no…it’s just-” James takes a sip of his water. “I was wondering if you’re psychic or something because I was thinking the same thing.”
My eyes widen. “Eh?”
“I mean, about sitting here with you. Well, not exactly. I was uh, trying to picture you in like traditional Japanese clothing…I don’t think you’d look good in a cardigan really.”

I laugh, freeing myself from discomfort. Now I can’t stop smiling. The words slip out of my mouth before I’m even aware I’ve thought them: “I love you, James.”
James puts his hand on the table on the rainbow scarf from today’s Pride, and I put my hand over this.
“I love you too,” James replies, trying out the words for the first time.

I feel like my heart’s going to explode. I suddenly want to kiss him very badly. I lean forward and James understands what I want. He lifts himself off the seat slightly and meets me halfway across the table. The kiss is gentle, sweet and warm, and then we sit back in our chairs and continue eating like nothing’s happened. Only now, we can’t stop grinning like idiots.

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Text is fictional. This is Derek Binsack and this post isn’t an attempt to personify him or assume his sexuality (although I’m pretty sure he’s gay).

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I hear the door close, then silence. “Honey is that you?” I ask, sticking my head out from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “I’m home. Jesus, what a day. This just won’t end. It just won’t end.”
I furrow my brow and come out to greet him. The kiss is cold from the spring chill and his eyes are not seeing me. I cup his cheek. “Are you really alright? You’re in shock.”
Laurent runs his fingers through his shoulder-length auburn hair. “I can’t feel anything. I’m totally numb. Last week I found out I’m likely losing my job in the merger. Found out today my dad has cancer, and someone’s been using my credit card without my permission… just one thing after another. ” I help Laurent off with his coat. “I can’t even remember leaving the office and getting here…”

“My poor Laurent.” I put an arm around his shoulders. Despite his strong build, he feels fragile and unsteady. “Come to the kitchen, you need to sit down.”  My boyfriend just grunts and lets me lead him.

I sit him down in a kitchen chair and put a glass of strawberry milk in front of him. “Here,” I say.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Your drink, to wash this down.” I fetch the plate off the counter and hold it in front of him.

Laurent stares at it, blankly. “How did you…”
“Your mother told me,” I answer. “I called her today, because I was worried about you. She said when you were little and having a bad time at things, she would make you Happy Cake so you’d feel better. She told you the sprinkles were made of real, dried rainbows and they were medicine that only works on children. So…how did I do?”
Lauren takes the plate and cups it in his hands, as if shielding it from his shitty week. “It’s beautiful, Alain. I forgot how pretty the colors were. You know, I used to ask my mother what flavor the cake was and she said ‘sun flavored’. I thought vanilla was ‘sun flavored’ for years,” he chuckles. “Jesus, it’s just perfect.” Laurent lowers the plate to the table and picks up his fork, but he hesitates to molest it.

I put my hand over his other hand, loosely curled on the table. “Laurent.” Our eyes meet. “Everything is to be ok. We’ll know more on Monday about your father’s cancer, but the doctor was optimistic wasn’t he? And the credit card company froze your card right? The assets are protected. About your job, well, maybe you’ll find another job you’ll love even more. You still have me too, no matter what happens.”

Laurent swallows, hard, and he tries to make some words come out but his throat is too tight. I pat his arm and nod understandably. I get up to get my own piece of cake, and we sit there in calm silence and eat.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Laurent methodically carves up his dessert and eats every bite in his usual fastidious manner. When every crumb has been collected and every sip of milk is gone, Laurent sets his fork on his empty plate and dabs his mouth with a napkin.

“Alain?” Laurent asks. He has a slight accent from his childhood in the south of France and I love how he says my name.
“Yes?” I reply.
“Would you like to go upstairs and make love?”
The tone in his voice makes the hairs go up on the back of my neck. He didn’t say ‘fuck’ or ‘have sex’, he said make love. “You’re up for that?” I reply, cautious.
Laurent nods. “I…I need it. I need you. I feel like my emotions, my feelings, are all backed up and I can’t hit unpause. You are so kind to me, so loving, that when we’re together I just dissolve and drift into pieces like foam on the sea. I need that. I need you to unravel me or I’m going to break.”
I can see the pain on Laurent’s face, clear as day. He needs to cry, but he can’t. I finish my last bite of cake and drain my milk. “I would love that. I’ll put on the heater, make it warm. You go get ready, I’ll make us some tea.”
“Tea. Yes. Good idea.” Laurent pushes away from the table and shuffles to the bedroom like a zombie.

Later, when the sheets are stained and I am blessedly tingling all over, I rock Laurent as he sobs into my arms. Change scares him. Losing his father, his best friend, before we have children, scares him. Financial instability scares him. In one week, everything he could count on to be stable has crumbled. Eventually he collapses into exhausted sleep around me, and I tuck him into bed.

The next morning, when I wake up, Laurent is already sitting up and gazing out the window. It’s kind of hard to see his face as the sun pours over the bed.
“Laurent…?” I say softly.
To my cautious delight, he smiles. “Look. It rained last night, and it’s just beautiful today. Come here, to this side of the bed – watch the mess now – look! Can you see it? There’s a rainbow over those hills.”
“Yeah – yeah I see it. Wow, Laurent. It’s a beauty.” I slide my fingers into his, interlocking them, and we share it together.

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Text is fictional. This is not the first time I’ve made a post with just a picture of cake, lol. Pic is watermarked for ownership.