Silence for a while then. My eyes are heavy, and I feel Lorenzo's breathing grow slow and deep. "Are you still awake?" I ask.
"Mmmm.Um pouco."
"Earlier," I whisper. "What we did. What I…wanted you to…to do."
He stirs, clears his throat, coming more awake. "Mmmm-hmmm?"
"Was it…was I…" I swallow hard. "I don't know how to say it."
"You feel self-conscious," he guesses.
I roll a shoulder, answering in English because it's what comes easiest, at this point. "I…yes, I suppose so. I don't know what came over me." I can't help but snort. "Don't say it."
He chuckles. "I don't think I need to." He’s still talking in Portuguese.
"I just…I don't know who that woman was, Ren. Saying those things, doing those things. It was almost like an out-of-body experience."
He's quiet for a while, considering his response. Or just trying not to fall asleep. "Sophia, that was…so fucking sexy." His half-asleep brain is drifting back and forth from one language to the other at random. "I know you have to be Inez, still, at times. But in private with me? Bethatwoman, the Sophia from yesterday. Don't be embarrassed or self-conscious. Nothing we do together can be wrong or bad or disgusting, as long as we both want it and enjoy it. I love you. I am honored that you trust me so much as to offer your body to me. Your heart. Yourpast. Everything you are, you are trusting to me. That is the most precious and priceless gift I could ever receive."
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
He laughs. "Sophia, I have no secrets from you."
"Have you ever done that? What we did?" I clear my throat. "The part where you…you know. On me."
He curls me closer and kisses my temple. "No. That was a first for me. It's not something I would normally think of doing."
"Why not? I'm just curious."
"The few other lovers or partners I've had aside from you—and they are very, very few—things were more geared to getting to actual sex. The occasional handjob, but that was just to get me ready for sex. Or a blowjob, sometimes just for the sake of it and other times as part of foreplay."
"Ren, I promise I will get there. I just don't know—"
He cuts me off with a finger over my lips, leans over me, eyes glittering in the gloom. "Hush, my love. What has come before for me is irrelevant. I have no expectations, truly I don't."
“But you have to want—"
"You. I want you. I want to share my life with you. I want to share my body with you. I want the intimacy of sex with you. But if intercourse isn't possible—if it is too frightening, too triggering, I will be perfectly and utterly happy with anything you are comfortable with." He sighs slowly. "To put it bluntly, ejaculation feels great, yes. But if all I wanted was to ejaculate, I would just jerk off, as I have done for years. What I want, what I care about, is sharing experiences with you. I'm not overly concerned with whether I come, or how, or where, really. And to be honest—because this can only work if we are both honest—yes, I do hope you become comfortable with intercourse. It is the deepest source of intimacy, the closest connection two people can share. But Sophia, my love, if we get there at all, it will be in your time and in your way. Just communicate with me. Tellme or show me what you want and what you need. If you can't find the words, if you are too nervous or scared to say it out loud, that's okay. Find a way to show me. All I want is your love, however you feel comfortable giving it to me."
My eyes burn and my heart threatens to swell and crack beyond the confines of my ribcage. "My god, I love you so much."
"That's all I need."
I nuzzle his jaw—some small, bitter, cynical, absurd part of me feels ridiculous and self-conscious at showing that kind of affection—at all, to anyone. It scares me nearly to panic being so vulnerable with him, showing him the softness in me. I've had to be so hard and so cold for so long, it's hard to relinquish the impulse to protect myself by walling off and controlling my emotions.
As if to prove to myself that I can conquer those demons, too—the ones that demand isolation and hardness and icy self-control and emotional rigidity—I dive deeper into softness, into affection. Into femininity. Not that softness, gentleness, or affection are the purview of women only. It's just…alien to me.
I nuzzle his jaw with my nose, my lips. Palm his cheek and caress his beard, scratch delicately with my fingernails. Press ghost-soft kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his upper lip, his brow, his ear, his chin.
He rumbles, a low, happy growl. "Soph…" his voice is tight with emotion. "Love that. So much."
I bury my face in the side of his throat, let my eyes grow heavy, let them shutter closed. Focus on the safety of Lorenzo's arms around me. On the love between us.
I fall asleep again, and there are no dreams, no panic.
When I wake again,gray pre-dawn light bathes the room. I'm spooning Lorenzo, his big, broad back curved against my belly and breasts, my knees tucked against his. I drowse like that for a while, basking in the feeling of happiness. Eventually my bladder drives me out of bed, but I hurry back as quickly as possible, resuming my position behind him. I curl my arm over his waist, under the heavy weight of his arm. Unable to fall back asleep but unwilling to leave the bed and the warmth of Ren's body and the soul-filling contentment of simply holding him, I find my mind wandering back to yesterday.
Specifically, to when he made me come with his mouth. God, that was good. Bizarre at first, but incredible. I feel my sex grow hot and damp at the visceral memory, and I squirm behind him as arousal builds low in my core.
