Your mouth is moving, opening and closing, opening and closing. A snort and a puff and a wrinkle of the nose. What are you dreaming, my sweet? What silent words are you forming? What events are unfolding? What visions are you seeing? I'm sure it's a pleasant dream, judging by the gentle smile defined by your lips. No demons for Jamie, no dark nights of the soul. Just the sleep of the innocent.

Am I in your dreams, my bonnie lad? Am I the source of your smile? Is it me you are seeing, my body you're feeling, is it my love that has you beguiled? Do you re-enact the scenes of before, when we made love in that very bed? Do you remember the way you held me, caressed me, entranced and possessed me? Do you remember the words that I said? Do you remember the way that I cried when I came? And you thought that I might be upset. Oh Jamie, my Jamie, my sweet, pretty Jamie, you should know me, a flirt, a coquette. Just sleep, my innocent.

And yet and yet... I love you. So many emotions you wring from me. I look upon your body and lust after it. I see your chest, a few, slender hairs sprouting here and there, and long to press my hand against it, to stroke it, fondle it. Place my lips around your nipple, suck and cajole it, roll it against my tongue. Circle it, round and round, biting, biting. Feel it harden in my mouth, a miniature echo of excitement growing elsewhere in your manly frame. My head on your chest, feeling your pulse. Rise and fall, rise and fall, your breath so even, a beautiful symmetry, the poetry of life. And your arm is folded over your chest: even in sleep you are defensive, my charming, shy young man. And thighs, so muscular, and those long legs crooked lazily, accentuating your muscles, defining their shape. If I stretched out I could reach them, could feel their vitality. Could run my hands up and down your thigh, feeling the bristling of your hairs, the cool texture of your skin. At first my whole palm pressing against you, then raising it so only my fingertips are left; and then, more insistently, my nails dragging on your flesh, the designs of my desire raised in red upon you. Sitting back, though, restricting myself to looking at you, I see one leg has fallen slightly forward, frustratingly obscuring my view of your dormant cock. Another innocent, asleep.

And yet and yet... So many emotions. I think of that cock, of what pleasure it wrought only a couple of hours before. Of your face as it slid inside me, your expression as it reached its fullest extent. Of how you raised yourself above me and pulled in your stomach muscles so that every stroke rubbed your prick against my clitoris. The way you threaded your arms behind me and pulled me close to you, an embrace so full of passion and love. And how you slowed down even when I knew you wanted to speed up. That you wouldn't come until I had, and the delight in your eyes when I did. I think of those things, my love, I think of those things. And I think of you when you came. The short, panting breaths; the bearlike grip in which you held me, tighter, ever tighter, as you got closer; how you speeded up near the end; and how, virtually at the point of coming, you slowed almost to a stop and finished with long, slow, deliberate strokes; the look of fierce concentration on your face as the moment arrived, this man who takes his pleasures so seriously. And then I think of you coming inside me; of feeling the short pulses of jism spurting deep into me; of seeing your face, eyes closed with joy, features contorted in a rictus of pleasure. I think of you, my sweet. My Innocent. Asleep.

And yet and yet... So many emotions. I think about your mind and love it. Such diffidence, such self-effacement. Yet underneath a confidence and belief that nobody else ever sees; it's not your ability you doubt, is it, Jamie, but your capability to prove it to others? And that is what made you such a good suitor, my dear. The most attentive lover in the world will still be useless if he has no understanding of his partner; the most perfect lover in the world will be useless if he has no care for her. You felt for me, my sweet, and you cared: you knew what I wanted and you wanted to give it. But more, you did not subordinate your own desires to mine, but integrated them with your own. That way two becomes one, an experience is shared, a partnership of equals is formed. I gaze on you now, my splendid young man, and give thanks for the strength of your mind. I see you before me, stretched so demurely, an innocent, sleeping and blind.

And yet and yet... So many emotions you wring from me. Tears you draw from me. Guilt you raise in me. My love, my love, fair man, my man, what can I tell you, what can I say? You lie before me, untroubled, unwavering, a lover I'd fain not betray. The sleep of the innocent, the rest of the just, a beautiful man in his prime. All that I can I give you with pleasure, all I ask is a share of your time.