Twoset Shorts

The wandering-hands-piece (fluff)

-Eddy, Eddy-honey...?
Brett's soft words were tingling in his ear, waking him up from a deep, black sleep.
Eddy felt a warm, kind hand stroking his face.

-Why is it that you're always this early bird? What's the point? Eddy grunted with displeasure.
-Maybe I'm born to make breakfast for my beautiful husband?
-Ooh, I'd like that!
-You want toast?
-Yes, thanks.
A couple of minutes later Brett came back with toast and coffee, and Eddy had finally gotten more awake. Enough to feel grateful. He felt as though he was the luckiest man in the universe.
He sat up and had a couple sips of the coffee. 
The toast was left on the bedside table, very soon forgotten.
He was more focussed on his husband.
-Oh my God, you're so beautiful!
Eddy pushed him down to the mattress, kissing him softly for what felt like hours,  but still not long enough. 
Brett's hand was sliding down his back, making his soul sing melodies. As if he was an enormous vibrating string.

-I love your wandering hands. Makes my head play music.
-Yeah?
-Yeah.
-What kind of music? Debussy?
-No, something I've never heard before actually.  Something totally made up in my own head I think.
-Maybe you should write it down?
-Yeah, make a piece called wandering hands.
-Sounds IntEreSting!
-2.movement will have a huge orgasm in it.
-Oh, so there are several movements?
-Mhm. 2.movement will be a long one,  with slow, gentle lovemaking.
-Uhu. What's the 3.movement?
-Divorce.
-Oofff! Omg, you're so pessimistic!
-What? I thought you'd like it! You're not into that too much happiness stuff.
-Not too much no, but this was about MY hands..
-I didn't say it was!
-No, but it still was, I think I should have a say in this. I think the 3rd movement should be a happy marriage.
-Omg. Eddy rolled his eyes. -Like a fairytale. "They lived happily ever after."
-Yeah!
Eddy pretended as though he had to vomit, and made some pretty disgusting gagging-sounds.
-With a choir, singing, like a revelation.
Brett hit him a couple times in the head with a pillow.
Eddy moaned, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
-Yeah, almost like Ode to joy, he said in a sarcastic tone.
-Yeah, whaaat? I think that sounds like a great symphony!
-Nonono, can't make it a symphony. That 'll insult Daddy Beethoven.
Can't have that.
I'll make it a violin-concerto. Sounds like that's what it is in my head.
-Sounds beautiful.
-Yeah.
Brett made himself comfortable resting on Eddy's arm, his head on Eddy's chest.
-But you gotta do something about that title though.
-What do you mean? Wandering hands isn't good enough?
-I mean, it's a little bit too much. Composer's note on the first page of the conducter's sheet: ."This piece is depicting Brett's hands and how he touches me. Even how he makes love to me."
-Is that a problem?
-You better disguise it as a landscape or something.
-Like they all do?
-like they all do.
-Hm.
Eddy played with Brett's hair.
-Brett?
-Mm?
-Do you think some composers actually did that?
-What do you mean, wrote music about sex and pretended it to be about nature?
-Mhm?
-Of course they did! Or they just numbered it. You don't need to label everything with words you know.
-Maybe some of the absolute music-pieces was actually programatic, but just for the composer to know?
-And his lover, maybe.
-Like Tchaikovsky' s pathetique. Written to the love of his life. Maybe his lover knew. Do you think he knew that every note was almost like a letter, to him?
-I mean I sure hope so.
-I hope so too.