An Image of Antinous

Lysicles

I have just returned from the shop of Cyprias, where I exchanged for a bar of soap the small endurance of his manhood within me. It has been a whirlwind morning, for I decided that I would give Mordanticus a gift of the lather to thank him for his support of me with this endless stream of parchment. Though I did not tell Cyprias, I was, in fact, in quite a rush to return home, for I have little time left.

Another visit from Phlegon at the stables this morning brought with it the news that Hadrian has requested my company on his next outing to Tibur. I was told I have but a single day to prepare – we leave tomorrow at sunrise – and there is no indication how long I will be gone from Rome. Naturally, I am excited, and yet not without trepidation. What shall be expected of me? Am I about to find myself in the Emperor’s bed? It goes without saying that Anaxamenos believes the answer to be a resounding Yes. Yet Hadrian has proven time and again to possess a considerable amount of patience with regard to my flesh, and I am of the opinion that such behaviour will continue. I sense that this is but another test for me, and ‘tis the sensation that makes me nervous.

Owing to the uncertainty of how my time will be filled in Tibur, I am hastily writing this now in order to set to paper my description of the time I shared with Vitalis. I fear that my arrival at the Emperor’s villa will so overwhelm me with spectacle that I shall abandon as a priority the need to record that beauteous imagery which currently holds (yet no doubt shall soon relinquish) the pride of place in my mind.

After I had set down my reed last night, I rolled up the letter and sealed it. And then I smiled at Vitalis and asked him what he was writing. But he shook his head at me and said, “Nothing.”

“How can it be nothing?” I asked him. “You have been writing for almost as long as I.” But he looked down at the paper and replied, “It is not writing I have been busy with, Antinous. It is drawing.” He held aloft to me his parchment, which I reached over to take from him. And there before me was an image of myself: my head bent low, my skin illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp beside me, my ancient and undying love for Lysicles tumbling down in word upon word upon the page. The breath did momentarily leave my lungs, for I was mesmerized by the simple beauty of his lines. In but a few strokes, the boy had managed to capture me in my fullest concentration. I saw upon my face a visible testimony to the affection I feel for you when I write your name. I was astounded.

Illustration by Shawn Postoff

“You have a gift,” I told him. “So do you,” he said, and indicated the drawing in my hand. I was touched by his generosity, and I thanked him for it. “Do you wish to push our beds together?” I asked him. He smiled and nodded.

And so we fell upon our doubled bed, removed our clothing, and, facing each other on our sides, embraced silently in the darkness. His flesh was warm and firm beneath my fingers; the scent of him was musky and damp. After a small time he turned from me and invited me to insert myself between his thighs. I did so, wrapping my arms around his body. My thrusting was slow and silent, for I wished not to disturb the slumber of those around us, or, if any were still awake, not to draw to ourselves undue attention. I eventually came to a climax within his legs, and the release of it compelled me to lie quietly for a long time, marveling at the sensation of his peaceful body before me. As my breathing subsided, Vitalis lay still and patiently, and I wondered if he had fallen asleep while the stickiness of my slime dripped down across the front of his bottom thigh. But he was not asleep. After several minutes had passed he reached for the covers and used them to wipe my cooling liquid from off his legs. And then he turned around to face me. I could feel his youthful manhood, still very much hard, against my stomach. “May I do you?” he asked. And how could I refuse him?

Illustration by Shawn Postoff

I started to turn around but he stopped me. “I wish to face you,” he said. And so I opened my legs and allowed him passage between them. He wrapped an arm around me and buried his face into my neck. I too embraced him, and held my fingers against his back while he slowly thrusted back and forth before me. The sensation of our chests together was glorious; I rejoiced each time his belly touched my own. When at last he released himself, his breathing was intense and hot upon my ear. He slowed and stopped, and I was happy to hold him between my legs. At first I felt nothing, for the temperature of his liquid was as warm as our flesh. But soon I felt it creeping down around the back of my leg: it had cooled and loosened – I was tickled by the sensation of its slow fall to the bed sheet.

When at last we separated, we both were sweaty and spent; sticky and yet fully sated. I stood up and wiped myself off with the corner of my sheet. We returned our beds to their proper place, kissed, and bade each other goodnight.

Vitalis fell asleep almost instantly. And I, although feeling happy and warm, was left awake to wonder at my sudden surge of desire for him. Was it that Anaxamenos had become engaged? I was certainly not blind to the fact that Palmetta was laying a claim on him whom I had always believed (although not without insight as to the utter foolishness of such a belief) to be mine alone. Perhaps that is one explanation. And yet there are certainly others. There was the need, as always, for release; a union of bodies and the blossom of pleasure it brings. There was a desire for company and intimacy in a setting where the power was, for once, my own; where I through my seniority could command the events of the exchange to my liking. And yet there was also a genuine affection for the lovely Vitalis, a smooth and wide-eyed fellow that positively doted upon me; who shared with me my love of wisdom; who had quite evidently been kissed by Clio.

Although our friendship has not been a long one, I feel myself quite capable of a very decisive love for him. And while I know it is a love that cannot last beyond our youth, I nevertheless wish it would. This in turn has led me to the strange realization that, had you and I never been separated, Lysicles, we would very likely be contemplating the approaching end of that time in which we could easily share our flesh with one another. For manhood is fast approaching, and with it the end of these casual affairs with my contemporaries. For thinking such a thought, I have suddenly experienced a very profound sense of my present fortune; of the joys and happiness I am able to know now, as I near my XVIth birthday. The touch of Vitalis is joyful; the freedom to pleasure Anaxamenos on a regular and uncomplicated basis is refreshing. In contrast, my time with Cyprias is unremarkable, for I feel little by way of attraction for him. My time with Gryllus was exceptionally unpleasant. My time with Hadrian may prove to be more a cumbersome and stressful duty than a genuine experience of love. It is now, in my youth, when society cares little for how I use or provide my flesh, that I am truly free. When I am a man, there shall no longer be the freedom to have close to me in my bed a contemporary or a friend. I shall be relegated to those younger, or those purchased, and neither shall afford me the stimulation I suspect I’ll want. How shall I respond to that? How does anyone?

I am frightened. I wish never to stop touching the people who are close to me – both in heart and in years – even when arrived beyond my youth. I know not how the future shall find me. What better reason, then, to embrace the present? To stare at this picture of myself who writes; to write of the staring; to think of the recipient who shall read it. I sing of Vitalis, of Anaxamenos, of myself, of our delightful freshness. I ignore the spectre of coming days.

A bar of soap and two letters, thus, to Mordanticus I shall now deliver, including the drawing made by Vitalis, which I send along as a gift to you.* And then back here to the Gelotiana I’ll dash to prepare myself as best I can for the journey before me. Wherever you are, my friend, I have little doubt that you shall sleep far more soundly this night than I! A.

* Note: The drawings of Vitalis will soon also be presented as a collection of works in the Gospel of Vitalis.