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Naked
By : rvanv
Category: 1 through F > Brokeback Mountain
Views: 1390 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own Brokeback Mountain, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
- 1
- Disclaimer: This episode tries to capture a moment in the lives of Heath Ledger and his family. But I do not know these people at all, and this work is completely fictional.
It is 5:30 in the morning. It is Heath’s turn to tend to the baby when she wakes up. Michelle pulls the bedspread over her head as the little girl’s morning stirrings waft in from the nursery. Heath is groggy but knows his responsibilities, knows the routine. He rolls out of bed, naked, glances around in the dim room for a pair of boxers but doesn’t see any. He’s done it like this before, and lord knows, the baby doesn’t care.
He sees by the night light that she is wide awake, legs kicking and arms flailing at a colorful mobile hanging above her crib. As soon as either of her parents picks her up in a warm hug, however, the baby quiets down, soon relaxes into a nap.
Heath reaches for his daughter, lifts her to his chest. It is a small room, and in only a few steps, he reaches the rocking chair near the window, where he sits down.
It feels good holding the warm bundle on his naked lap. He doesn’t think about it, but it’s a natural, innocent meeting of two precious things: his beautiful baby daughter, and the penis that created her in a moment of love.
He sits there rocking the little girl for a little while, and soon she is sound asleep in his arms. He closes his eyes and nods off, too, head bent protectively forward.
Some time later, Michelle walks quietly into the room. It is past dawn now, and she is going to open the blinds, let the sun in to light up the pastel striped wallpaper with its border of baby animals. But she stops. What right has she to disturb this, the half-light playing so sensuously on the two loves that have made her life complete?
They seem to her like a beautiful statue. Of the most perfect marble, that pale skin they share. Something by Michelangelo, perhaps. A madonna with child, but here it is a young man with his daughter. And why not? she wonders. Why not indeed?
She takes in the beauty of her man: the muscular body that she knows so well by now. His sturdy feet, never wavering. His strong, athletic calves. His massive thighs … they fill his jeans so well, she thinks, not forgetting the alluring curve of his tight butt. His scrotum, source of his seed, rests on the seat of the chair, the loose skin spilling out from beneath the pale sheath of his penis. Then the forest of light curls that seems to protect all that tender manhood.
A trail of fine hair follows the ridge up to his belly button, to the taut, rippled stomach that presses so firmly against her whenever he enters her. The well-formed ridges of his chest, his own nipples perked up due to the slight chill in the air, which has made him wrap the infant ever more tightly in his arms.
The sinews of the muscular arm that supports him when he leans down to kiss his lover’s breasts as he caresses her … a gentle lick, a kiss, for each raised nipple, one at a time, before he stretches out over her to kiss her on the mouth.
That very same arm cradling the little girl in all her ivory nakedness.
Her angelic face snuggled against the patch of soft hair on his chest.
His chin bowed down toward the top of her downy head.
Her chubby little arm drawn up toward her daddy’s Adam’s apple.
Ah, Heath … ah, Matilda Rose!
The sculptor has captured every loving detail, not judging any parts of the body to be unseemly, unworthy of being loved.
- 1
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