Photography: Ozzy Garcia Photography
Art Deco Diamond Brooch
Young couple, 1920s - original for sale here. Note the woman’s gorgeous Art Deco patterned dress.
Photo by Clifford Coffin
Ulysses laughed, though the sound was slightly muted. So close to Nathan, he felt like he was using the voice he’d previously only associated with libraries in the past.
"Excellent. That means I have at least one more to look forward to." This was easy, easier than it had ever been in the past, when his sincerity sometimes felt like an act, like a show he had to perform perfectly to make it just as sincere to the other man as it felt to him.
Stepping back a few inches, he gestured to the bed.
"May I introduce you to the bed? Marginally more comfortable than the sofa." He grinned and tugged on Nathan’s hand. "Feel free to toss any of the extra pillows that you don’t want on the floor. I tend to overdo it, I think."
"At least," Nathan echoed, his voice just as soft, his smile turning warm as his confidence grew.
It slipped slightly, he had to acknowledge, as he was suddenly faced with lying there with Ulysses. It was probably going to be awkward, he realised, for him, at least. Ulysses never seemed to be fazed by anything. But Nathan didn’t know which way he should face or if it would disturb Ulysses to fidget if he couldn’t sleep, and what if he accidentally stole all the covers during the night? He was used to sleeping alone. He was comfortable with being on his own.
"You can never overdo pillows," he said, relieved to find his voice steady and smooth, despite the way his mouth had turned try. He only had one pillow in his bed back at the flat.
Clara Bow in Wings, 1927
Even as Nathan pulled back from the kiss, Ulysses realized he was in no way ready to put any more distance between them. So he stayed right there, leaving the little space Nathan had created as the only divider as he smiled at him.
"Was that my good night kiss?" he asked quietly, feeling his words hovering between their mouths.
Nathan’s smile grew and warmth washed away any uncertainty. Ulysses wanted him there. It was as simple as staying close.
"I don’t think so," he said softly.
Times Square, New York, 1949, Fred Stein
John, Paul, George, and Ringo: The Beatles. Miami, 1964.
Photographer: Harry Benson
As Ulysses assumed he would be the kiss thief, he was surprised at the sudden light pressure on his mouth. It had taken so little effort on Nathan’s part, the movement required was so slight, but it set stereotypical fireworks off in the back of Ulysses’ mind.
It certainly was grand.
He let go of one of Nathan’s hands, shifting that hand up with the same surety he reached for glassware in his lab. He matched the pressure against his mouth to the way he held his hand against Nathan’s cheek, thumb up against his cheekbone. The other man’s fringe tickled his nose as he tilted his head slightly, kissing him back with a little more intensity.
A soft sound escaped the back of Nathan’s throat, half pleasant surprise - at himself and at Ulysses’ response - and half nervousness. His heart was beating too fast and he didn’t know what to do with his hands; he knew he was holding Ulysses’ too tightly but he didn’t want to let go. His free hand ended up clutching the fabric of Ulysses’ t-shirt, somewhere between his waist and his hip. He could feel his feet planted firmly on the floor, but it still felt like falling.
He broke away with a soft inhalation of breath, an uncertain smile curling the corners of his mouth. It was difficult to meet Ulysses’ eyes, but impossible not to.