First Nap

We stayed under the red blanket.
Fear invaded my head—and my ass. It was my first time without a rubber. Love, too, lodged in my heart, but I knew that part was only me, dreaming of a loving mate.

You see, I grew up in an abusive household; affection has always been the key to a rollercoaster of fantasies: the beauty I imagine I could have instantly. Giving myself unprotected for the first time was not the right way to anticipate love, nor a ticket that could buy it. So I worried.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

I turned to look at Ian—his gorgeous smile, his deep blue eyes.
“Are they really blue?” I asked. “They seem to oscillate between blue and green.”

Ian smiled. “Heterochromia iridum. One is green, the other blue. I was born like that. Depending on the light, they almost look the same.” He leaned closer. “But that’s not what you were really thinking, is it?”

I froze, suddenly self-critical. “Am I that predictable?”

He smiled again, and this time I noticed the dimples on his cheeks, the curl of his eyelashes.

“Are you studying me?”

I shifted slightly under the heavy red blanket.
“I can’t remember faces,” I said. “They blur. If I study them, I might remember them later—in a crowd.”

“So,” he teased, “you could end up having sex with a stranger and think it’s me?”

Or—

I laughed. “No. No, no, no—stop right there. A penis like yours? That I’ll remember.”

“That’s a long way from face to penis,” he said, amused. “What do you tell your second dates? Pants down?”

I snorted. “Only the promising ones.”

Ian laughed, the sound low and warm, then grew quiet again, as if something in my answer had landed more seriously than I’d intended.

“Umm,” I said, “Are you a second-date mistake… or a fourth-date risk?”

Ian’s smile curved in that slow, deliberate way. “Honestly? From the first time I saw you at the Embassy Dinner, I had hoped that you’d be a quickie in a mansion toilet.”

I froze. Then laughed nervously. “Oh, never! Do you do that sort of thing?” My mind was racing. “Ok. What about… planes?”

He shook his head, mock-serious. “No. I’m afraid of turbulence. I might seriously hurt you.”

I blinked, half scandalized, half impressed. “Responsible… in all situations, huh?”

He shrugged. “Mostly.”

He looked at me properly then. Not at my body, not at the closeness between us, but at my face—as if weighing my questions instead of brushing them aside. I had no filter.

“Is that how you see me?” I asked. “Easily hurt?” I had decided to be honest—not for others’ sake, but for my own. I wanted to know how people truly responded to my real feelings.

Ian’s smile slowed, became more deliberate.
“No. I think my intention right now is to know more about you.”

Something loosened in my chest.

“For the record,” he added, “if I’d thought you were easy, I wouldn’t be lying here.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. It felt full, as if there was room inside it.

“I was afraid,” I said.

“Of what?”

“You’re my first without protection. I wanted to know what it felt like. To really feel it.”

Ian shifted onto his side, propping his head on his arm. The movement was unhurried, thoughtful.

“Really?” he said. “Your first one?”

He traced a lazy line on the blanket between us—not touching, almost touching.

“Wow, Dany. Somehow that makes sense. You followed every move with such reverence.” After a moment, he added, “And strength.”

“Strength?” The word surprised me.

“Yes,” he said. “I can imagine the fear behind your thoughts. That our actions tonight may come with consequences.” He paused. “Don’t worry. I’m safe. I test regularly. My last test was five months ago, and I haven’t had time to date since.”

I felt the weight of a decision forming in him before he spoke again.

“My job doesn’t leave space for dating.”

I didn’t ask questions. To my own surprise, I didn’t want to. There was something careful in the way he offered the information. My not knowing felt right.

We listened to our breathing, felt our hands, and each had our own thoughts, and the shared warmth under that big blanket made me sleepy. I settled into something denser, calmer, safer. The kind of quiet that doesn’t rush to justify itself.

I noticed I wasn’t rehearsing the future anymore. No pretend. No invented permanence. Just his presence, his attention, I took it all in.

“You ok, Dany?”

“I am,” I said. “I feel like a nap. A short one.”

Ian instantly wrapped his legs around my waist, and I held him close—for proximity, for the straightforward pleasure of a good first nap with a man.

Credits photography: Cumm.co.ukm2m-sex-hugasm