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Kolya sits at the window waiting. His breath fogs the pane. He reaches up a finger and with the tip, begins to write in the tiny beads of condensation his breath has made on the cold glass. He is writing a name. A- L- Y- O- S- H- A. Kolya, alone in the hotel room, smiles to himself, seeing in his mind blue eyes, a gentle face, slender hands making apologetic gestures. Hearing that voice. Voice like an angel's-- it's a trite phrase, so trite the worst critics speak offhandedly of Alyosha's angelic voice. They call him a seraphim or worse-- cherubim. Angel. He does sing like one. But Alyosha himself is not an angel, Kolya knows. He is only human. With a body like any human's, with weaknesses. Kolya scowls. If only Alyosha would realize it's all right, being human. All right to want things, if only sometimes. Kolya wants things. Kolya wants many things, but one in particular.
The mere thought of that particular thing is enough to arouse him, and Kolya is already hard. Leaving the window, the letters of the name written across it already disappearing, Kolya retreats to the bed. He throws himself against the mattress, relishing the creaking of the springs. Creaking bedsprings, there's a sound about as unlike an angel's voice as one can get. Kolya loves the earthiness of the sound, how it is everyday, ordinary, human. He rests his head on the pillow. He closes his eyes as he begins to unbutton his jeans. Then his hand is inside his underwear, touching his cock. He has plenty of time before the others get back. He knows it won't take him long, he's so ready. He begins to stroke himself. Alyosha. Alyosha smiling, saying something silly and laughing at himself, blushing. Alyosha pulling a t-shirt over his head. Alyosha talking to his brother Ivan, the serious one, frowning about something, biting his lips, first the top one, then the bottom. Alyosha on the floor in tears, hand covering his mouth. Kolya sees only a multitude of Alyoshas, all Alyoshas he has known with his own eyes. His breathing quickens, and he knows he is about to come. He begins to imagine Alyoshas he has not known. Alyosha naked, tangled in sheets, arms spread on the bed like the wings of a white dove. Alyosha's mouth against his own, Alyosha's body pressed against his, Alyosha sucking his cock-- Kolya comes, his body spasming violently. He tries to make the sensation last as long as is possible. He doesn't want the moment to end. He wants what he has imagined to be real. He wants, so much he wants, but he realizes it's hopeless-- and then it's over. He is lying in the bed of a hotel room alone, spent. He doesn't have anything. He buttons his jeans back up and stares at the window. At it, not through it. There is nothing written there. |
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