In this room, even the gauzy white curtains seemed drowsy. They fluttered lazily, pushed to and fro by the warm Mediterranean breeze. There was no greater pleasure than to doze away an afternoon here, with the window open, listening to the sea. The room was perfectly, warmly bright, filled with soft white light that did not harm tender Irish skin or sensitive blue eyes.
The curtains always fluttered and the sea always sounded the same. Time stood still here; except when it raced by, swallowing up days, each one very much like the one before. Sometimes Bono would spend all day thinking it was Tuesday, until someone told him that it was in fact Wednesday. He was ever losing track of time, but Edge said that was no surprise. Bono was always losing things.
Edge had a videocassette in his hand. "I want to show you something," he said. When Bono asked what it was, Edge just said, "A band." The videocassette had no box, and no label. Bono wondered how Edge could get away with that; how could he keep track of things, just remember what they were?
Edge put the cassette in the machine. The cassette player and the television were the only black, electronic objects in this room of white linen and mahogany. Edge gave Bono the remote and walked away. "Go ahead and start it," he said. "I'll be right back."
"I'll wait," Bono said.
"Go ahead," Edge called out from the other side of the door. "I've already seen it."
The remote was so old, a lot of the words had worn off, but Bono pushed the triangle button, and when the word "Play" appeared in the corner of the screen he smiled at his own powers of deduction.
Edge stood out in the hallway, barely within earshot. He was examining his watch. The hallway was shady and just a little cooler than the bedroom. It was quiet around him, and that made him feel quiet inside.
"There's something wrong, I think," Bono said. "It's just some lines on the screen."
"Keep watching," Edge called back. "It'll start in a minute."
Bono thought he heard a sound. It was like his ears were telling his brain they were receiving information, but his brain didn't believe them.
Once Edge determined that an appropriate amount of time had passed, he re-entered the bedroom. The video was over. Bono was still sitting at the end of the bed, barely holding the remote with his limp fingers. He was looking at the blank screen.
Edge sat next to Bono on the bed. He gently took the remote out of Bono's hand and turned the television off. "How do you feel?" he said. His body was buzzing.
Bono turned his head to look at Edge. "I feel a little strange. Who are you?"
Edge smiled. "I'm Edge."
Bono closed his eyes, deliberately storing this information away. "Edge, okay. And who am I?"
With comforting slowness, Edge's fingers found their way to Bono's arm, and squeezed. "You're Bono. You're my lover."
Bono nodded and did not blink. "Okay. I'm your lover."
Edge was not bothered by Bono's blank expression. It was a side effect that would fade in a few minutes, after which point he would be more his usual self, and less suggestible.
"As a matter of fact," Edge said, "we were just about to make love."
"Oh yeah? Okay, that sounds good." Bono looked down at the bed and nodded absently. "Um, have we made love before? Because I don't remember it."
That was a question he asked about half the time, but it never sabotaged things. Edge just had to catch him quickly, at the tail-end of his blankness. "Sure we have," Edge said. "Lots of times. If you like, I can show you what we do."
"Um."
"Or, you know." Edge started to get up. "If you don't want to, I can just go…"
"No! Don't go!" Bono moved at last, lunging for Edge's arm and holding tight with both hands. "Show me."
Edge sat down again, this time much closer to Bono. He tilted Bono's chin up with one hand and gave him a kiss on the mouth. Bono's lips were dry; Edge wet them for him. The light in the room was so soft, their bodies cast no shadow on the wall.
When Edge pushed his tongue into Bono's mouth, Bono made a groaning noise, the kind of noise human beings make when they feel sudden, unexpected erotic pleasure. Edge was waiting for this sound, because if he tried to proceed before hearing it, Bono would react badly. But now Edge could push Bono's shirt up and play with his nipples, and Bono would smile in the middle of the kiss, and make sounds that primarily involved the letter "M."
Edge moved to whisper in his ear: "If you want to lie down on the bed, I can show you what else you and I do."
Bono turned to look at the bed. It seemed enormous; the pillows that rested against the headboard rose like a distant mountain range, in his eyes. He began a slow crawl in their direction. Edge helped him make it there, and when he lay on his back, Edge unfastened the buttons on his shirt, then his trousers. He didn't lift his hands to help, just shivered as the breeze blew in through the window and over his bare skin.
Bono was not ashamed of his body at all. When Edge stood back up next to the bed to undress, Bono sat up to watch, his thighs parted wide. When Edge was undressed, moving to get in the bed with him, Bono smiled for the first time, a broad, genuine smile, which was the most reassuring thing Edge could ask for.
"How long have we been lovers?" Bono asked.
Edge said, "Oh, a while now."
"Tell me more."
Edge pulled Bono closer, and threw one of his legs over one of Bono's. "You've been looking forward to this," he said. "You like to make me feel good. In fact, you love it more than anything else in the world." Edge tilted Bono's head back to give him more kisses. Outside, seabirds chattered.
Bono nuzzled Edge's neck. "Tell me what my favorite thing to do is."
Edge was too embarrassed to say aloud what it was that he wanted Bono to do. For a moment he just studied the swirling patterns that the movements of their bodies made in the sheets. "How about if I show you what it is and how to do it, and then you do it to me?"
Bono said, "Sounds good."
"But, in a minute. First, I just want to…" Edge trailed his fingers up and down Bono's body, everywhere he could reach. He would watch what his hand was doing for awhile, then look up at Bono's face. Bono was wide-eyed, full of absolute trust and curiosity. Edge kissed him, not on the mouth but everywhere else; his forehead, eyelids, cheekbones, neck. Bono held still, bewildered by this flurry of affection. Edge was breathing so heavily, and Bono didn't quite understand why.
Finally, Edge threw his arms around Bono, and held him too tightly for breathing. "Oh God, I just love you so much," he whispered. "I just want to be with you, that's all." His voice was laden with desire and guilt.
"But," Bono said, "you are with me. Aren't you? You said I was your lover."
Edge's face was pressed against Bono's shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up, at the curtains fluttering. "Yes," he said. "Right." He slowly released Bono from his embrace and began to kiss his way down Bono's body. "Now I'm going to show you what I want you to do," he murmured. He rubbed his face against Bono's belly, one hand moving ahead in anticipation. The insides of Bono's thighs were smooth and pale, almost the color of the sheets. Edge's hand moved up and down the creamy skin, and Bono spread his legs to accommodate it.
Edge laid Bono's cock against his belly and gave it a long, slow lick up the underside, then all the way back down to his balls. Bono made noises of disbelief, as though he really couldn't have guessed what Edge was going to do, until he'd done it.
Things Edge used to introduce more slowly, he now didn't waste any time before doing. He was already touching the ticklish spot behind Bono's balls with two fingers. The reaction was as reliable as the sunrise: a wanton thrust of the hips, a delightful whimper. He released Bono's cock from his hand, let it stand up, and then steadied it between thumb and forefinger as he kissed it wetly. He let more saliva build up on his tongue before he licked it again, and then finally sucked it into his mouth.
Bono watched all this, mouth agape, trying to learn it while he savored it. A bit of Edge's tongue was visible when he tilted his head to take more in, and this made the muscles in Bono's stomach quiver. "Okay," he said, out of breath, "Okay, okay. I'll do it to you." Before Edge could say anything, Bono hauled himself forward and pushed Edge onto his back. "I want to make you feel good now."
Bono did not have the finesse that Edge demonstrated; each time they went to bed, it was Bono's first time, and that had good and bad aspects. Edge didn't care that Bono wasn't an expert at it. He watched Bono with the same rapt attention, smiling involuntarily with embarrassment as Bono mimicked one of his techniques. Edge thought, He's doing that to me because I showed him how to do it. It gave him a squirmy feeling.
Bono then had a look on his face, like he didn't know why this was his favorite thing to do. He looked at Edge, blankly. When their eyes met, Edge blurted, "It's good, really! I'm sorry, I was…thinking too hard. Please keep going. Please." When he cleared his mind, it felt better. He kept his eyes off Bono, and instead on the white ceiling. He continued talking, whispering to Bono until he couldn't think of any more words to express how good it was.
Bono was past the point where he would accept any statement he was fed, but Edge said it anyway: "I'm gonna come soon. You like it…when I come in your mouth." To keep himself from pushing down on Bono's head, he put his hands behind his neck and clutched the pillow. What triggered it was the thought that it really was Bono doing it. Really.
"Ungh…oh…" Edge kept his eyes closed. Everything was so pure and clean and white, on both sides of his eyelids. The sound of the sea disappeared for a moment, and when it came back, it was louder.
Bono sat up. Until Edge opened his eyes, Bono just watched him, slowly stroking his own cock, which was still hard. He didn't say anything about it; Edge had been doing most of the talking, and Bono trusted that Edge would say something about it when he saw it.
"Mmm." Edge roused himself, and indeed looked right at Bono's hand on his cock. His eyes lingered perhaps a moment too long. He said, "I've got something for that," and slowly, clumsily, reached over to open the drawer of the nightstand. From it he pulled a tube of something. "Lie down again."
Bono obeyed, and Edge sat, legs folded, next to him. He opened the tube and squeezed some of its contents over his fingers. He rubbed it between his hands to warm it a little, then put his hands on Bono's cock.
"Unh…What's that for?" Bono asked.
Edge lay down alongside Bono, and gave his cock one last fond touch. He hooked his leg over Bono's hip, then rolled backwards. This was not the most efficient way to get Bono to kneel between his legs, but Bono seemed to instinctively understand what Edge was trying to accomplish. He settled himself in, with Edge's thighs around his own. "What now?" he said.
Edge spread his legs a little more. He took Bono's cock in his hand, thumb just behind the head, and guided it to where he wanted it to go. "It's easy," he said, "You just push." When Bono pushed, Edge lifted himself to push back. The sound he made frightened Bono. Edge had to put his arms around Bono to keep him where he was.
Bono looked down. He and Edge were nearly face-to-face. "I like your eyes," he said.
Edge wasn't going to come again, he knew that. But he still enjoyed the feeling of Bono on top of him, and inside him. There was pain, yes, but it had sweetness in it, and also a strange feeling, like a tickle, deep inside.
Bono pushed into Edge steadily, but his expression was uncertain. "Does this feel good to you?" he asked.
"It does. There's a place inside, and it feels good when you touch it."
"Am I touching it right now?"
"Yes."
Knowing now that he was pleasing Edge, Bono found it easier to enjoy himself. He rocked against Edge's body, slow and powerful, like the rolling of the sea. Soon, moans were escaping his lips, deep vowels, little nonsense words. When he came, his body just crumpled, and Edge put his arms around Bono's neck, smothering himself with the warm sweat-stickiness as the rocking slowed.
When Bono didn't move for a while, Edge figured he was just waiting for further instructions, so he rolled Bono off him and they lay in a damp embrace.
"Was that right?" Bono said. "Did I do it right?"
"You did it perfect," Edge said.
"Can we do it the other way around, too?"
Edge frowned. "Um…maybe tomorrow."
Edge made Bono keep kissing him, with the purpose of keeping him awake. Once Bono fell asleep, his pre-frontal cortex would reset itself, and his long-term memory would return. Edge had to make sure that wherever Bono fell asleep, he would wake up with no indication of what happened. "Let's take a shower," he said. Bono didn't want to; he wanted to nap. Edge had to be insistent. His lover was not suggestible anymore.
"If you get in the shower with me, I'll show you what my favorite thing to do is."
Bono's eyes lit up. "You mean, we haven't done it yet?"
Edge did not reply, only grinned, wickedly.
Bono got up.
Edge washed Bono and got him in some fresh clothes. While Bono looked out the window at the sea, Edge changed the sheets. Then he invited Bono to come back to bed and cuddle with him.
"I could still go for a nap," Bono said.
"That's fine," said Edge.
Bono laid down and rolled into Edge's arms, and Edge held him, resting his chin on top of Bono's head. It was quiet all around again, and Edge felt quiet inside again. Bono sighed deeply; he seemed so satisfied and comfortable, and that made Edge feel less guilty.
"I love you," Bono whispered, and fell asleep.
Edge squeezed Bono tighter. He cried for a little while.
When he was sure that Bono was deeply asleep, Edge pulled himself out of their embrace, and left Bono in a position where his neck would not get sore. He took the videocassette out of the machine, and replaced it in the false bottom of his suitcase. Sometimes he thought about destroying the tape, and when he imagined it, he was always smashing it against that blank, white wall. But then after that he always wondered if he should make a copy of it, using a second video machine, in case something happened to it.