Warnings: post-part 2.5 of "Ascensiones"
Summary: Casual Intimacy
Notes: A couple paragraphs I liked too much to delete from the newest chappie, but which needed to be taken out.
An Ancient!John Drabble
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
It's strange how the simple things have come to mean so much when the prospect of eternity looms before him. The geography of their relationship is familiar, but none of its casual intimacies have ever managed to become anything less than electrifying. No kiss is perfunctory. No touch is routine. Eternity cannot compare to the tangle of legs in a shared bed, or an arm heavy around his waist, or the warm puffs of breath falling on the hollow of his neck.
Like this, he can almost forget his false flesh. He can pretend that everything he's ever wanted is coming to pass, and that one day he shall die and his ashes shall drift out into the universe, until all that he was mixes with all that ever was, forming new stars and new planets.
Yes. That sounds better to him than eternal life, stagnant and unchanging as the universe passes him by.