On the warm summer nights when Reuven was in his cottage in the Peekskills and the loneliness of a life, which at it's core was devoid of any real human connection besides that which I found with my best friend, set in, I liked to lay atop my covers and imagine what Reuven and I would be doing if we could do anything in the world. A lot of the times it was some raging form of catharsis; it was sneaking out and running down the streets, bleeding out the pure, unfiltered hatred I had for the situation I had been born into before falling into Reuven's arms, a sobbing mass of gross drunkenness and desperation. I had often times wondered what Freud would say of these day dreams. What symbolism would he find in the tragic stories that played out in front my eyes before I fell asleep, stressed and sweaty? But last night, after my dreams had played out, after I had screamed from the rooftops in brownstone Brooklyn of the turmoil that sent tremors through my aching body day after day, after Reuven had taken my shaking hands in his and promised that he would save me, that Adonai had sent him to save me, like I had said all those years ago. He might as well have been the messiah, because he was here to save me. After all that, on a rooftop in Williamsburg, I took a shaky breath, and finally, after days and days of cutting off my fruitless fantasies, I leaned in and kissed him. He drew in his breath sharply as my top lip caught his bottom lip. It was dark and no one could see us, there was no moonlight, no stars in the sky. I traced my hands over his chest, stopped at his heart, and I felt it, thrumming beneath my fingertips. I relaxed my jaw, and felt my mouth open, inviting Reuven to deepen our kiss. Slowly, he pushed his soft tongue into my mouth. A tentative exploration of something new, foreign, but welcome. He tasted sweet in my imagination. Like tea and honey. He felt like honey too. Syrupy in my arms, slow in his movements, flowing into me, just as I flowed into him. And soon I couldn't really tell where he ended and I began. In my head there was a cold breeze and it made me shiver. Something dark, and cold, to freeze, and crack, what warmth we had found in each other that night, and almost as soon as Reuven came he left and I was staring up at the light on my ceiling, feeling as if I had lost something really important, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. My heart was beating quickly as I replayed my quick trip to heaven, throwing my head back against my pillow and sighing frustratedly. I could feel a sort of heat on my skin, a flush left over from the thin, sugary, dust that graced my dreams that night. I reached down and brushed a hand over my penis, feeling it, thick and hot between my legs. I looked out my window on Lee avenue and wondered what the Hasids would think of this. Reb Saunders' son, touching himself to the thought of another, apikoros, boy. I was the sinner they warn you about in synagogue. But that night I didn't care. I wanted to take what pleasure the world had to offer me, and not be stingy. And so I pulled off all my clothes, exposing my bare flesh to the warm summer heat, and I reached down and pressed against myself, letting the softest whimper of Reuven's name escape my lips. Slowly I began to stroke, up and down, in a steady rhythm. I could feel my muscles clench and unclench and shivers of pleasure danced across my skin like stardust, pulling me back to Reuven's touch. My breath was hot, my moans subdued, my back arched, my pace steady, and cock weeping. Precum dribbled out into a pool on my pale stomach. I rocked my hips into my hands, setting my jaw tight, clenching, and fighting back uneasy breaths. I hoped then, that Reuven, miles away, was feeling that same ecstatic high that curled your toes and raked your body and left it heaving for more than your own familiar touch. I wanted to see the stars in Reuven's eyes as he moaned my name and begged for me to push him, just a little farther. I wanted to have to work, to coax his orgasm out with tingling fingers and pink, kiss stained lips. So I pumped my dick, faster and faster, to the rate at which the thoughts came and fell away, and I fell away too, deeper into some blissful sort of darkness, where nothing really mattered, and no one could really find me. I was engulfed by that darkness just as my orgasm found me. A flash of pure nothing, that made me throw my head back, and groan despite my best efforts and I could feel Reuven against me. Collapsing on my heated and heaving chest, breathing hard on the skin of my shoulder, right behind my ear, against the side of my neck.

"You're gorgeous," I could hear him whisper headily. As his breathing regulated, all the stars blinked back in the night sky.

Thank you Reuven, I whispered into the air as I turned my head towards the window. Sleep was tugging me under and with my last waking thought I looked out the glass at the stars and smiled. What for, I don't know, but I know I smiled.