The Helsinki Winter Garden – Part 2: Tropical Night
Gay Stories·EN·2 min read·Published 2026-11-07, updated 2026-11-07·Part 2 of 2
"Yes," said Kenji, very softly. "I would like that very much."
The kiss was warm and tasted of green tea. Kenji's hand rose to Lauri's face, earth-stained and gentle. Lauri laughed against his mouth and kissed him again, slowly, and the warm air smelled of wet leaves and orchid. Rain dripped from the fronds. Snow pattered on the glass.
"I should check the humidity," said Kenji, without moving.
"It's fine."
"It is very fine."
They laughed. They fed the stove. They made a nest of blankets and cushions under the old fig, in a warm hollow between two giant ferns, and drank the last of the tea. The blizzard roared invisible beyond the roof, and the garden hummed softly, a green island in a white night.
"Are you sure?" asked Kenji. "I am not very good at this."
"I'm very sure. And you're very good at it."
"I have only practised on palms."
Lauri smiled, took his hand and kissed his fingertips. They undressed slowly in the warm green dark, laughing at damp socks and tangled apron strings, and their love-making was gentle and unhurried, with the fig leaves rustling overhead and the steam shimmering silver on the glass. Time seemed to slow in the warm air. There was only skin, breath and the soft sound of water falling from leaf to leaf.
At dawn, the storm had passed. The sky above the glass was clear and pale, and the first sunlight lit the garden gold. Kenji woke to find Lauri sitting up beside him, holding a tiny orchid on his palm.
"It has just opened," whispered Lauri.
"That one has not flowered in six years."
"Maybe it likes company."
Kenji looked at him for a long time. "My shift ends at seven," he said. "I would like to make you breakfast. At my flat. It is not warm like this. But there is a kettle."
"I'll bring the orchid," said Lauri.
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