Into the Light

32. Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

Is this now the fifth or sixth cig in a row? I've lost count. The wind from the sea is unusually cold, it's drizzling a little and everything looks slightly out of focus through the thin gray veil of water hanging in the air. My lashes are heavy with droplets caught in them, I have to blink several times to see more clearly, but the air is so humid, so misty.

The cigarette is wet, it leaves a nasty tingling on my lips and tongue. Actually it tastes terrible. Absolutely fucking disgusting. I take the last long drag, nearly choke on it - bloody hell, my throat's burning - and then grind the rest underfoot.

Rashim's nowhere to be seen. Not that I'd have even tried to see him. Fuck it, he's the one who stormed out, doors banging, so why the fuck should I run after him? He's a big boy, he can look after himself, goddamn it! If he wants to trot outside in this weather and get wet and cold, he's free to do that, thank you so much. See if I care.

My throat hurts but I pull out another cigarette from the case and even manage to light it, even though the wet wind does its best to stop me. Well fuck you too, I'm not that easily discouraged when I want something, and right now I want a smoke. I perch on the big stones arranged outside the glass wall of the studio, they're wet and coldness seeps immediately through my pants, but who cares? Doesn't feel too uncomfortable yet. I'll sit here and try to stop fuming.

Fuck it, the stones are slippery. What if Rashim has gone for a walk on the paths that crisscross the grass and shrubbery growing on the slope? What if he's slipped, fallen down, sprained an ankle? Broken a wrist? Rolled down on the hill and cracked his skull? What was the fucking idiot even wearing? He's probably going to catch a cold at any rate.

Well, that's his own bloody business. He's the one who started the fight. I think. Yes, of course it was him, nagging to me about having to pick up things after me, all that stuff. Fuck him! I mean, a house like this - sure as hell we're not going to look after the place by ourselves? We have other things to do! An apartment of one or two small rooms is one thing, a roomy house with a garden and all is a whole different matter.

So why the fuck does he have to adopt this holier-than-thou attitude when I make the perfectly sensible suggestion that we ought to hire a servant or two? It's the logical thing, the natural thing to do. But no, Rashim has to get himself all worked up and then dash out in a whirl of scowls and red-brown hair...

That happened quite a while ago, too. And it's drizzling harder, the air is nastily cold like only a wet wind blowing across the ocean can be. Where's he gone, and when is he coming back?

Is he coming back?

Another butt into the trodden pile. Scary but true - now we have quarreled, really quarreled for the absolutely very first time. And I'm damned if I know how the hell things flared up the way they did. I can't for the life of me figure out which one of us first started snapping or raising his voice, but I know fucking well that it was a real fight. I don't usually quarrel with people, and there have been very few times in my life when I've actually done it. I hate it, the feeling, the indignity, the roil of emotions. I can't remember fighting with anyone quite the way we just did today. Gods, he was angry. So was I, for that matter.

Where the hell is he? What if he's not coming back? Should I -

No. I'm not running after Rashim. I don't even know where I should go.

I hope he's not hurt himself.

Just listen to yourself, man, will you? You're absolutely pathetic! Yeah, sure, he's just gone somewhere to sulk. Probably to stroll on the slopes.

... where he might have slipped on the ground that's slimy after this persistent thin rain, and hurt himself badly.

Goddamn it, Toneior! Is it a good thing or a bad thing that you can't trot over to Chaim and Kim and let them see just how stupid you are? Maybe you'd fully believe it if they out and told you so. Too bad, though, that they're right now sitting in their carriage until their asses go numb, on their way to Uman... Hah, Chaim, right now I'm pissed off enough to actually feel gleeful for the fact that even you have been forced to personally make that goddamn journey just to settle some things! On the other hand I'd be awfully grateful if I now could run to the 'Albatross Nest' and howl a little against your shoulder.

But no, Chaim, you're not close by. So I dig up yet another cigarette and grimace as I inhale the first lungful. Fuck it, I'm going to sit right here until my ass freezes, or until Rashim comes back, or until I'm mummified here. Whichever happens first.

I wouldn't have believed that it would all come to an end so soon... or actually, why not? This has already lasted far longer than anything ever, my friendship with Chaim aside, and even that went sour for a good while, back then. So why the hell did I imagine that things would be different this time around? Of course the real wonder is that it has lasted this long; that I haven't already fucked up a long time ago. Toni the goddamn fucking idiot. And I'm not even sure how exactly I did that. Am I stupid or what?

I squeeze the wet butt between my fingers and toss it as far as I can. It lands among the soaking wet grass tufts. Fuck it, my throat really hurts. And -

"Shouldn't do that, you know."

I start so badly that I nearly keel over from my perch on the boulder. "Rashim?"

He's standing at the door, bedraggled wet hair hanging all over. His nose is red, lips pale with cold, fingertips nearly blue as they peek out from the cuffs; his loose jumper is heavy with water, sleeves hanging well over his knuckles. One knee is smudged, he must've taken a fall, and he's barefoot, no doubt kicked his shoes off at the upstairs entrance. I haven't heard him pad downstairs and across the studio. He looks at me through messy bangs.

"You shouldn't throw them there," he repeats. "You might forget and do it sometimes when it's dry."

"Rashim." I'm on my feet and hugging him before I fully know what I'm doing - oh shit, the jumper generously wets us both when squeezed between our bodies. "Baby... please don't leave me."

"Leave you?" He pulls back enough to look at me, eyes widening. "Leave you? Not a fucking chance, idiot."

His lips are cold but the tongue is hot, then he makes a strangled sound. "Ugh, you taste horrid... how much have you been smoking?"

"Too much." His neck is cold, too, and he's actually beginning to shiver a little. All wet, and barefoot too on the wet stones. Actually I'm more than a little cold as well, now that I come to think of it. Especially my ass. "Rashim, let's go inside."

"That's the cleverest thing you've said today." He turns with a sniffle, nose beginning to run, and steps in through the door. He looks at me over his shoulder. "Bath or bed?"

"Bed," I say, and he sprints up the stairs. I realize to my surprise that I'm actually somewhat sluggish with cold, and by the time I reach the last steps he's already shedding clothes all over - especially on the railing. He raises an eyebrow at me and shimmies out of his clingy pants.

"I pick up after myself," he says pointedly.

I honestly would want to say something to that, but I'm too busy peeling my own clothes off. And the railing makes a good rack.

Rashim is again ahead of me, I catch a glimpse of his very bare and absolutely divine ass as he crawls across the bed and slips under the covers. I join him, and my breath catches as he plants a freezing hand on my stomach, but at least I get my revenge as I turn quickly around and back into him so that my very cold buttocks are slap against his crotch. That does make him squeak. Toni, one point. It's a tie.

"Don't ever leave me, Rashim," I mumbled. I have to say it, can't help it. He bites my neck.

"I told you, not a chance. You're mine, Toni the idiot."

"Even though you're mad at me?"

"Toni, we wouldn't be normal if we never fought!" He sighs and holds me tighter. "I won't stop loving you even though you make me mad every now and then. Don't you then love me any more?"

"What?!" I try to twist around enough to see him but his arms are like a vise around me.

"There. Of course you still love me, even though you were quite as mad at me just a while ago." That hot tongue plays with my earlobe. "Just because we fight sometimes, it doesn't mean the end of the story."

I relax a little, not least because I'm actually beginning to feel a little warmer.

"I thought about it," Rashim says. "I don't want a servant - shut up, Toni, and let me finish! I'm not used to it that there'd be someone around all the time, and I don't want to get used to it. But I'm okay with it if someone comes here every few days or so, to keep the place clean, to take care of the laundry, maybe do some shopping and so on. Do you think you could live with that?"

I think about it. Doesn't sound too bad actually. No, not at all.

"I just couldn't feel comfortable knowing that somebody might walk in just like that when I'm giving you head on the sofa," he murmurs into my neck, "or hears me when you're fucking me senseless."

I can't help smirking. "What about your poor neighbors back in town?"

"Oh, shut up, will you!" He slaps my hip with a growl and I chuckle. The blonde young woman next door must've been grateful when Rashim moved out - oddly enough, roughly at the same time when I started spending heated nights with him, she started blushing heavily upon seeing us...

"Let's do that," I agree. "We do need someone, because otherwise either the house goes to the dogs, or we won't have time for anything except housekeeping. I'm sorry I got so worked up about it."

"No, I am sorry," Rashim says with emphasis, then kisses the base of my neck, gnaws it, sucks it, licks it... He knows how to turn me into jelly, yes he does. "Shouldn't have. Stupid of me... I should know already that you're such a baby in some ways..."

I would bristle at that jibe, I really would, if I weren't too busy trying to grind my bottom against Rashim who scoots backwards, out of reach. "Bloody tease!"

"Am not!" He turns away to fumble for something, I'm ready to protest but a familiar scent tickles my nostrils. And then a hand, now warm and oily, glides lightly along the crack of my ass, making my breath hitch.

"Toni..." Rashim's lips on my nape send a delicious shiver down my spine. "Relax."

I press into the fingers that delve deeper and refuse to listen to my stupid pride that's whispering something venomous into my ear. That's a battle we've already had. I know that sex for Rashim is about giving pleasure. Not about who tops whom, not about asserting dominance. Quite specifically it's not about pride.

One finger slips inside, and my eyes roll back. No, this is not about pride, I remind myself. Rashim is not trying to prove me anything, except that he wants me. His body radiates heat, breath hissing when the head of his jutting cock brushes against me, a sigh escapes me as I slowly close a palm around my own erection.

Two fingers. Rashim wants me. He wants to fuck me for a change, but not because he would've somehow won and I somehow lost. He wants to show me how much he wants me, because I'm such a baby and keep fearing that I'll lose him.

Three fingers... Besides, wouldn't I like it when he slithers between my legs, looks at me through a veil of hair, eyes hazy with lust, and smiles like that? Sure as hell I like it. I love it. His hands grab my hips, I hook a leg over his shoulder and squeeze - just give me the real thing, baby. Right now.

We both groan as he slowly pushes in. So smooth and hard and wonderful, I can't help grunting at each deliberate plunge, and my pumping hand falls into the same rhythm with his quickening thrusts. He's panting, trying to hold back, but his concentrated face tells me that he's going to come soon. Oh my Rashim... I clench him tighter and he climaxes with a shuddering gasp, cock pulsing heat inside me, gulping for breath. His hand sneaks shakily over mine, I'm so close, this close... his slick thumb on my cock finds the trigger and it's my turn to gasp when orgasm hits me, hard.

I'm still trying to get my eyes to focus again when he pulls out and drapes himself over me, sweaty and sticky as I am. His eyes are just happy green slits in a narrow, flushed face. He's so warm, so gorgeously beautiful. "Feelin' better?"

"Sure." My lips pull into a wide grin as sleek arms, made clumsy by ecstasy, snake around me. Dare I believe that all is well again? Can it really be? "I love you, Rashim."

"Mmm..." He nuzzles my chin. "Love you too, my silly Toni."

Oh yes - yes it is.