As he descended from the hilly region going south to Cardiff, the long plateaus gave way to smaller hills, the snow decreased until, as the sun sank to the west, the sky cleared and long orange and yellow streaks of light crossed the snowy fields and filtered through trees at the top of the hills.
Derek felt relaxed, warm in the car, listening to random music from the radio. He had awoken in Emrys' bed early, so early that it was still full dark, but Emrys was already up. He had come down to the bar and breakfast and coffee were waiting. They had kissed and Derek wanted to get back in bed, but he knew he had to work, and he knew he was going to be late.
That had sat at the bar, as they had the first time Derek had stayed there, sipping their coffee, their oatmeal, not saying much beyond what felt to be the minutiae of two people who were at ease in each other's lives and could ask the simple questions of where, and when, that seem entirely mundane but are only so – can only be so – because they have reached a profound understanding of what they are doing together.
Breakfast done, they had held each other for a few moments, Derek enjoying the smell of Emrys that, he was struck again to notice, was not like Patrick at all, not like any man he had been with. He just smelled like Emrys. With one last kiss and the promise to facetime that evening, he had gotten in his chilly car.
He arrived at work shortly after ten, finding his desk scattered with all the pens and notes and empty coffee cups that he had left two weeks before. Susan, at the desk opposite him, had her head down, looking at her screen, clearly in the midst of a design problem. But she raised her head. “Welcome back, Derek. We've missed you.”
“You have? What have I done to deserve that?”
“Oh by being a shit, I suppose. Go talk to Milo...he's got a new set of ads for you.”
After being caught up with Milo, receiving the details of the design proposal, and sitting at his desk, thinking it through, he couldn't help but remember the warmth of Emrys and his bed, his body, his strength. He was struck by the distraction, was struck that he hadn't felt like this for someone in years. He squirmed in his chair, his pants suddenly uncomfortable.
After lunch, he texted Emrys. Just to say hello. Just to make contact. His reply was quick and eager, expressing affection and sly references to the ways their bodies communicated. It had been a long time since he had been with someone who was not afraid to say things clearly, openly and he assumed, honestly. It was itself exciting. He had rarely met people capable of it.
When he got home to his flat, he threw himself on the sofa, opening a bottle of lager. The dry bubbles seemed to clear his head. He looked at his phone. More from Seth. He deleted the texts. He deleted Seth from his phone which felt both daring and shocking.
Given the course of events since leaving Seth, he almost didn't remember being the person who had wanted to be with him, wanted to accept his reactivity, his irrational bursts of lust or anger.
After a supper of take-away he bought from around the corner – curry, rice – he started facetime. Emrys looked very happy to see him, as much as he was to see him. They talked for an hour and it felt easy. He yearned to be with him. He wondered at the adolescence of his feelings at this stage of his life. Do men have teenage romances at forty? He decided he didn't care. They rang off and Derek had been tempted to suggest they do something naughty over zoom, but he felt too shy.
By late March it felt like winter was truly gone. The spring flowers were in full bloom, a little patch of daffodils near his apartment made Derek smile. He had just returned from Emrys's inn where they had spent most of the weekend in bed, and he felt settled and warm, but wished he could see him more often.
They had been a little wild with each other, Emrys closing up early when he arrived since he had no sleeping guests, and they had torn each other's clothes off in front of the fire, after Emrys had moved the chairs out of the way. Derek had wanted to be in him, and he got behind him, feeing an animal urge and had fucked him, the flames of the fire warming their already warm bodies. When Derek had come, he had pulled Emrys up and encircled his body with his arms, his nose in his hair, and had felt tears running down his face. Emrys, without a word, had turned and licked his cheeks, then kissed him, and they had lain in front of the fire until is was only embers.
Sitting at his desk, remembering the weekend, his phone pinged and it was Emrys, suggesting a week in the north, tramping through the mountains of Snowdonia, staying at an inn. Derek texted back asking why he would want to stay at an inn when he lived in one. Emrys replied, saying he could watch other people work.
In a way that felt familiar, Derek then worried that Emrys would have to close, could he afford to, was it responsible. Finally Emrys had called him, reassuring him that a week at that time of year would make no difference and that Gareth and the other locals could survive without a pint or two.
So the following weekend, Derek picked him up in his car and they drove north into the increasingly complicated terrain, the lower hills becoming sprawling mountains. They walked in Eryri National Park, amazed at the views, the quiet lakes, the clean breezes off the sea. They stayed at a little hotel in Maentwrog that had a big bed, and a fireplace and seemed to be happy that a gay couple was staying, which Derek knew was not always the case in the countryside.
They had stood on a particularly high peak that looked south over Wales and Emrys had leaned in and said in Welsh, “Dw i'n,” and kissed him under his ear. Patrick, almost laughing at the unexpectedness of the words, but moved, said, “And I, you, Emrys.”
They spent the next day in bed as it was raining, but they found plenty to do, Emrys taking him several times, and Derek wanted to be fucked, and they had decided to dispensed with protection which made it feel intense and when Emrys came, he made a sound like a groan and a gasp that Derek was afraid would wake the people in the next room, or disturb the breakfast room below them. “Oh, don't worry about that. Maybe we'll inspire them.”
Emrys brought him to an equally loud orgasm, filling his mouth. Derek watched him swallow, then kissed him, tasting sex, and tasting Emrys. Later they did it again, reversing and enjoying the different rhythms of each other. When they finally slept, Derek had the thought that he had come to a moment in his life when he deserved this, this happiness, this freedom. It was intoxicating.
Back in Cardiff, happy, but missing Emrys, he looked at his email and quickly froze. Not from fear or shock, but just a kind of surprise that felt inevitable. It was Patrick. He was coming to Wales and wanted to know if he was free to get together.
At first he was excited. He hadn't talked to Patrick in years and was simply curious to know how his life was. But at the same time, he felt some trepidation. Both from how their relationship had ended and from the fact that he was now in love with his brother. It felt like an episode of Coronation Street.
But he replied and since Patrick was getting in that weekend, suggested they meet the following Monday, since most of all he wanted to talk to Emrys.
At his desk, still stunned from Patrick's email, Susan seemed to know there was something. “What's going on, Derek?”
“I've just had an email from Patrick...remember I told you about him?”
“You mean Emrys's brother? Oh my. What will you do?”
“I suppose I'll see him.”
But he also knew it might not be that simple. There had always been a lingering sense that something was not finished with Patrick, even after almost fifteen years and several thousand kilometres. Something that had never sat quite right in his gut regarding how it had ended. How he had been when it ended.
Patrick had come home from work and announced it. He was seeing someone else and that was that. And Derek had not reacted well. He had thrown things and had wanted shake Patrick by the shoulders, who had seemed shocked as if it hadn't occurred to him that Derek might be hurt, might be in love. He had always disregarded Derek's expressions of affection and indeed love, brushing them off with an playful kiss. Or an affectionate fuck. Or both.
It had taken Derek a year to really feel he could date after that. And then, after many years, there had been Seth. He winced when he thought of him and his bipolar expression of love and hate in the same sentence.
He decided to wait until he got to The Red Deer, and Emrys's warm bed before having the conversation. The drive north was windy and bits of last year's grass and twigs blew across the roads, but there was the occasional house with big beds of spring flowers, one with a whole lawn full of scylla, blue and purple at the same time, a little sea of colour which calmed Derek's mind.
He drove up to the Inn and felt even more settled. It was starting to feel like a second home. Or perhaps home, since his own felt like a hotel room. Emrys was making sandwiches for what Derek took to be an American couple, who were sitting at the bar, watching him work. He waved to him and continued working. He went upstairs to Emrys's apartment and settled in, taking his suit off, putting on running pants and a t-shirt, mostly because Emrys liked seeing him in the pants which he said both accentuated and concealed what was inside.
He dozed on Emrys sofa with a book, waking up when he heard the door open. Emrys immediately came over and got on his knees in front of him, sliding the running pants down with a grin. Derek had come to love this part of them meeting after a week. Emrys kissed his thigh, then licked further up, right to the base of his balls, digging his nose underneath, then sucking them in, one after the other.
He used his tongue to explore, and Derek, as always, was excited and hard and eager. When Emrys took him in his mouth he almost yelled, and pulled at Emrys's shirt, who leaned back while Derek slid it over his head, then let him return his mouth to him, sucking him, and massaging his legs, and his hips.
But then he stood up and pulled him into the bedroom, stripping off his pants as he went, and let Derek push him onto the bed. Derek, feeling almost dizzy with excitement, found the little bottle and then pushed himself down, taking his cock, looking down at him, adjusting his hips until he felt the fullness, watching the look of happiness on Emry's face. When Emrys reached an orgasm, Derek joined him, and sprayed all over his face with a laugh, and licked it all up.
He finally said, his face in Emrys's damp neck, looking at a trickle of cum on his chin, “I'm so glad to see you.”
“So I gather.” And Emrys laughed, which was in some ways the best part.
But then he sat up, wiping Emrys's face with his briefs. “I heard from Patrick this week.”
“Patrick? After how many years?”
“He didn't tell you?”
“He doesn't tell me many things. I'm surprised.”
Derek thought a moment. “I'm not sure if I want to see him. Things ended so badly between us.”
“Patrick told me about that. But not until long after.”
Derek realized he was surprised. “He did? That's interesting. What did he say?”
He could tell Emrys was thinking about how to reply. Finally he said, “That you were more in love with him than he was with you.”
Derek chuckled, burrowing his face in Emrys's neck. They were sitting up, leaning against each other on the bed. Then Derek put his arms around him and kissed his shoulder. “I don't think Patrick was actually in love with me. Not really.”
Emrys nodded. “Maybe so. But I think he has always felt bad for how he ended it.”
With a little snort, Derek got up and found his trousers. His briefs were covered in cum. “Well, he should...”
He was aware that Emrys was looking at him as he pulled on his clohtes. The light in the room was dim and Derek turned on the lamp by the bed. It as an old brass thing from some time in the 1940's, probably when Emrys's parents were young. His father at least, who had grown up in the place as well. And his father before him. He hadn't realized until that moment how entrenched the Williams were in the little hamlet. He though of Gareth, who must have grown up with Emrys's parents, who must have known Emrys his whole life. He had never had that kind of connection to a place.
Emrys took his hand and kissed it. “You should see him. It might put old ghosts to rest.”
Buttoning his shirt, he looked at Emrys's face which was thoughtful, still. He wondered what the old ghosts were and what they wanted.
He sat at his desk, working on his new commission, trying to work out the proportions of the ad. He had sent Patrick a text uggesting a pub they could meet at that night. The Earl of Carnarvon was a familiar one to Derek, and he wanted to be on familiar ground, just around from his flat.
Leaving his office, he felt tense and excited but part of him wished he had said no, that he could have said that part of his life was over. But he also thought that Patrick could easily become his brother-in-law. That was a startling thought.
He got to the pub early so as to get the table he always got, near the fireplace, near the bar, near the loo. Ordering a pint of bitter, he sat, his foot bouncing on the floor as if he was a hyperactive child. He thought of Emrys's deep brown eyes that he could lose himself in and remembered that Patrick had the same eyes.
And then he looked up into them. Patrick was standing, smiling, looking down at him. He was a little thicker, and as he remembered, a bit shorter than his brother, his hair less thick, almost balding. “Patrick...”
He got up and they hugged, which in itself felt odd, given how their relationship had ended. Patrick was indeed thicker and tanned, the years in Australia clearly having been sunny. Patrick stood back and looked at him. “You look the same, Derek. I want to know who you sold your soul to.” They laughed and Patrick said, “To the bar. You need another?”
Patrick returned with a Guinness, dark and foamy and sat down. He seemed at ease which Derek found slightly annoying. Taking a sip of his bitter, he said, “You look well, Patrick.”
“Do I? Well that's something. It's been a hard year.”
Derek was surprised at his candour. “Why?”
“Oh well, I lost my job, but found another. My relationship is a bit rocky...the usual.”
“You two have been together for ages.”
“Yes, that's probably why. Maybe we're bored of each other.”
He watched Patrick take a long sip of his beer then put it down on the table almost carefully. “Bored? What does that mean?”
“Oh, pay me no mind. We're just in a slump. But you...I hear you're shagging my brother.”
Derek was shocked at the directness which, when he thought of it, fit with how Emrys was. “He told you?”
“Derek, we may not be the closest of brothers, but we do talk.”
Sipping more of his pint, Derek thought how to reply. “We've been seeing a lot of each other. And it was such a random event, meeting him. I had no idea where you two grew up and suddenly I was there, asking for a room. It was daft.”
“So he said. He seems really happy, Derek. I'm glad for you both.”
That felt nice to hear. Simple pleasure for him. This was a Patrick he had never met. In the past it would have been sly innuendo, caustic sarcasm or just ignoring him. What would it have been like if Patrick had been more like how he was now, back then? He couldn't really imagine. They had both changed.
They ordered more pints, then some fish and chips, then more pints. When Patrick finished his third he said, “I need to stop or I can't be held responsible for myself.”
Derek drained his, feeling a bit numb. “For what?”
“Nothing. I think I've had enough.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Oh, do you remember Cynthia? Her place.”
He remembered Cynthia. She was as witty and sharp as Patrick had been. They were terrifying people to go out with, get drunk with. Derek said, “I'll walk you over.”
They walked into the spring night which was soft on their skin, the breeze off the Bristol Channel gentle. They walked a few blocks and Patrick stopped at a little house. “Here we are. It was great to see you, Derek. You seem really good.”
“I am. Thanks Patrick.” He hugged him and felt the pull that he hadn't felt in years, the pull that said, as it did then, that Patrick had a secret – in his mind, in his pants, it didn't matter. But the little bit of unfinished business sat in his belly, poking. Then Patrick kissed him. And he responded. It felt the same. Somehow it felt the same and while it didn't feel like Emrys – couldn't feel like Emrys – it felt like something he knew. Almost out of irritation he said, “Patrick...I want to...”
Patrick smiled, but a little ruefully. “Yeah, so do I...”
And they went inside. Cynthia, apparently, was out of town. They fell on the sofa and kissed and Derek was struck by Patrick's thickness, as if he had been lifting weights. He tore his shirt off and was struck by the muscles, the trimmed chest hair. He didn't recognize this Patrick. He pulled his own pants off, and soon they were naked, soon Derek had sat up on his knees on the sofa and fed Patrick his cock, pushed it deep, almost trying to choke him. But Patrick seemed to like it and moaned in encouragement. Then Derek turned and bent down for Patrick's rigid cock that he remembered, bigger and thicker than his brother's. It was a shock to see it again, to taste it again. And he shifted his hips and slid his own back in Patrick's mouth.
He almost climaxed in Patrick's mouth, so he pulled out and said, “Do you have a condom?”
“Of course.”
The implications of this answer suggested he and his boyfriend were having more than just a little problem, or they had a very open relationship. Either way, they went upstairs and Patrick produced a condom which he slid on Derek, stroking him a bit with lube before laying down and offering himself. That was what this felt like, Derek realized. Patrick was making an offering. For what reason, he didn't know. But he fucked him anyway. It felt like the logical step he needed. He leaned down and kissed him once, then leaned back, working hard, pinching Patrick's nipples, adjusting the angle of his legs and fucking him harder. Patrick shut his eyes and just seemed to be taking it.
When Patrick came, long streaks of cum spurted out and covered his chest and Derek watched, feeing strangely unmoved. Feeling distant. But he managed to climax himself, with a choke and could feel himself filling the condom. He pulled out and realized that Patrick smelled like sweat. Hot. A little sour almost. He realized his brother never smelled that way.
Derek rolled onto his back beside Patrick, taking deep breaths. Patrick got up and wiped himself almost clinically, as if he had just had a medical examination. It was in that moment that he realized what the ghosts were. They were the ghosts of intention, of domination, of closeness, all of which, when he was with Patrick, had been revenant, hidden, shy. Patrick had always wanted to be in control, to not be responsible for any given moment, and to never allow himself to stay in one place long enough to really be known. But tonight Derek felt, as he had fucked him, that the ghosts were leaving. Or they had left long ago. Patrick was vulnerable and aging. He was bound by his own unwillingness to let go. Even as Derek had fucked him, deep and hard, Patrick could have been reading the newspaper for all the passion he brought to it, all the joy that can come from letting himself be taken. He had not surrendered, but allowed.
Derek said, “You don't seem happy, Patrick.”
Patrick turned, startled. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said.”
But he didn't answer. Derek got off the bed and went downstairs for his clothes. He dressed then went back up. “I'll be going now. It's been grand seeing you. How long are you here for?”
With a sigh, Patrick said, “A week or so. Maybe longer. I'm going up to see Emrys tomorrow. Will you be there?”
“No. I have to work. I'll be coming up on Friday. Maybe you'll be there?”
“I'm not sure. Will you tell Emrys we did this?”
Having already had this conversation with himself, Derek said, “Yes. I think he expected we would.”
“Really? I hadn't.”
“Nor had I, but there we are. Goodbye, Patrick.”
He left Cynthia's house feeling numb and he walked home. It was only a few streets away from his flat, but he enjoyed the quiet and the smells of spring. He felt as if he had been exorcised.
He facetimed Emrys the next morning before leaving for work. Emrys was in his underwear, clearly just awake. “It's early, Derek.”
“I know...I wanted to hear your voice. I almost called last night but I knew you would be asleep.”
“You saw Patrick?”
Emrys was sitting on the sofa and Patrick could see his chest and his belly that he loved to run his hands over. He had a mad thought of asking him to remove his underwear so he could see all of him. “Patrick was...different. I suppose it won't surprise you that we had sex...”
Emrys smiled. “If you hadn't then you were doing it wrong. In my experience, ex-lovers sleep together when they haven't seen each other for a long time.”
“I had no idea...anyway, we did. And it wasn't good. I feel like...I don't know...that I've grown and he hasn't.”
With a smile, Emrys said, “I wish I could kiss you right now. I agree. I think he hasn't grown. I think he's been stuck for years. And his partner – nice fellow – is also stuck. It's a shame.”
Taking a deep breath, Derek said, “But we aren't, are we? I don't feel stuck. You certainly aren't. Don't you think?”
“As much as possible, yes.”
Derek smiled, then said, “He's coming to see you tomorrow.”
“I know. It will be interesting.”'
Derek had a fantasy that he would go to see Emrys with Patrick and the three of them would have sex, the brothers coming to some sort of resolution through their bodies. But as with all fantasies it was gone, and something else replaced it. And something else replace that.
During the course of the week, he let Emrys and Patrick alone, not wanting to interrupt anything since it had been years since the brothers had been in the same room.
Driving up through the hills to the Inn, Derek was excited to see Emrys as always, and to hear about his time with Patrick. When he arrived, there were no other cars but Emrys's, so it was obvious that Patrick hadn't stayed and Derek realized he was glad he hadn't.
He went in the kitchen door and Emrys was serving some tourists and pointing to a map, helping them figure out where they were. He glanced at Derek and smiled, then back to the map.
Derek went upstairs and had a bath, then walked naked around the flat, enjoying the freedom of no clothes after a week of work. He made himself some dinner and had a whiskey, sitting on the sofa reading a book.
When Emrys finally came up, he seemed surprised that Derek was nude, but clearly happy, because he began to shed his clothes as soon as he walked in. He then lay down on top of him, cocks squished together and wriggled his hips. Derek was hard in seconds, and they kissed and ground into each other.
Derek pushed him over and propped his head on his hand. “So...how was it?”
With a sigh, reaching down and gripping Derek's cock in his hand, he said, “It was fine. You're right. He seemed a little lost. And having sex with you...I think it did something. He seemed more sure of his decision to leave his partner. He said he's been hooking up with a nice fellow from his work and I have a feeling it may become something.”
Derek squirmed as Emrys stroked him. “I'm glad.”
They kissed some more, and then Emrys kissed his way down Derek's chest, biting his nipples a few times, taking little bites on his pecs and his stomach, before licking his way around his cock, sampling his balls, and even swirling his tongue around his ass which made Derek gasp. Then he picked Derek up suddenly, and carried him to the bedroom. He threw him down on the bed, holding Derek's gaze while he stroked his cock with lube, and then quickly slid into him, throwing Derek's legs over his shoulders so Derek was looking right up into his eyes. He started slow, but gradually thrust faster, never taking his eyes away from Derek's. But after a minute, he slowed and pulled out and said, “Fuck me, Derek. I want you in me.”
So Derek did, and from an angle behind him where they could kiss, Emrys's body twisted so Derek's cock went in easily, smoothly, quickly. Derek was excited to be there, in him, excited to have exorcised the ghosts, happy that Emrys just wanted him, simply, directly. And when he came, with a choking cry, he filled Emrys with himself, kissing him: his lips, his neck, his jaw. Then Emrys let him suck him for a while, finally pouring into his mouth, pouring cum that Derek was grateful to swallow, knowing it was Emrys's. A part of him and in a way that Patrick would never have done, would never have given. It was in the sharing – literal and symbolic – cum and emotion and their lives. They were all the same with Emrys, and, he was coming to know, him.
