“I’ve always wanted my own,” I said, tears starting to fill my eyes, and then I laughed. “Not my own, I mean, but one with someone else, someone that really loved me.”
“I love you, Mark,” Stefano said, taking my hand and placing it under his shirt and across his chest.
Leaving my hand on his chest, Stefano reached for me, pulling me close, and gently taking my face in his hands. He kissed me, hungrily, tenderly. It was different than before, but there was still a familiarity to it.
“We have a rhythm too,” Stefano said, reminding me of our time in the bathroom. “And we have a million or more yet to discover—new movements, new songs, a billion acts yet to play out.”
I nodded to him. It had become our thing. He put his arm around me and I snuggled into him. He kissed me again, and pulled
