I walked across an island. It was a barren, arid place that the sun had relentlessly tortured for millions of years before.
Each rock bore testimony to the span of timelessness as they waited by the path for some new traveller to walk past and ignore them; to ignore their history and their suffering. But I appreciated them as I sat a while and gazed across the rough, naked landscape, searching. For what? There were no living souls for miles, hardly a tree survived in the blasting heat so why would I expect there to be people there. Not people, a person. Only a myth maybe, but a myth is still a hope. He looked into me, saw what I wanted, knew what he had to give and lifted his arms, opened them and drew me towards him. His eyes, dark and compassionate, looked deep inside me and drew me closer. When he smiled I knew that I had known him all my life. He had always been there, in dreams, in idle thoughts, in places I had only visited in imagination, he had always been with me. I had just never found him before. His arms wrapped around my back and his hands lifted to rest on my shoulders. A slender finger brushed my neck as he pulled my head to rest beside his. He said nothing as he cupped my head in his hand and stroked my hair, calming me, bringing me down to the safety of the peaceful place he lived in. Our chests rose and fell together with our breathing and I felt his heart in its placid rhythm against mine. And then he moved my head to look at me again. We said nothing. Nothing was needed. We knew how this was to be. We both knew that this had always been meant. Our lips touched softly as we had always known they would, our breath mingled, and our tongues spoke silent words with each other as they fought and played together like long lost friends. His hands stroked my back, hard nails drawing lines in my flesh until they dropped lower, held me and pulled my hips closer to his. I did the same for him, felt the smoothness of his flesh and the strength of the muscles beneath as my palms travelled down to hold his perfect roundness. I stroked him as he did to me, as we kissed, as our groins met and rolled together. His hands came to the front and started stroking me there. Carefully, gently he felt me, drew me up in his soft hand, pulled me back, twisted me, toyed with me. And my hand explored in the same way. My fingertips plied on the solid smoothness of his flesh, felt the weights beneath, brushed through short, soft hair and covered all of him, squeezed, teased, offered whatever he wanted and brought his deep kisses further into me. We lay down together on the soft moss covered floor amid the ancient stones.