The grass was tall and each stalk was edged with a find layer of ice as if frosted with sugar. Some of the crystals were caught by the sun, glinting with impossibly flashes that disappeared just as quickly. There was a strong breeze blowing up the valley and Derek could see far to the south over undulating ridges, darker hedgerows and the occasional farm, or stand of trees.
The sky was a pale blue like a bird's egg, cloudless and serene. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the chill in his lungs. His trainers were wet from the grass, but now that he had crested the ridge he soon forgot his damp feet. He thought about autumn in Canada, and remembered the snow that would have come by now, the ice, the relentless frozen winds. In Calgary certainly, and in Toronto, which was only marginally warmer.
He had left their bed – for it was their bed now – early, leaving Emrys to doze for a while since there were no guests and nothing to do on the Bank Holiday. Derek had been there only a week since he had moved there permanently, working remotely after some negotiations with his company.
Emrys had tidied up the spare room – that used to be his bedroom when he was a boy – into an office for him. As if to christen the room, Emrys had thrown him on the desk and, after tearing off his running pants, had fucked him gleefully into the day.
Derek looked at the horizon beyond which was the ocean. There were birds fluttering in the sky above him as if keeping watch. He turned to the north, to the long slope that led back down to the village. He could see the trail of his footsteps in the half-frozen grass that he now followed to return. He realized he was hungry and hoped the Emrys was up and making breakfast, brewing coffee.
Derek had at first been quiet when Emrys suggested he move there, find a way to work from the village rather than Cardiff. But Derek began to warm to the notion that he could consolidate his life and in the context of being with Emrys. His company had been surprisingly unbothered and agreed, as long as he come into Cardiff once a month for a progress report.
The pub was warm and filled with the smells coffee and bacon. Emrys was standing by the bar with a mug, his eyes smiling at him. Derek kissed him and filled his mug, running his hand up Emrys' back, feeling his strong frame, his taut behind. He always wanted him in the mornings when Emrys seemed least likely to be interested which was the point, Derek knew.
They sat with their eggs, their toast, Derek telling him about the hills, the air, the sun. He felt like a child recounting their day, having discovered the world for the first time. Emrys took his hand and kissed it.
He had to work, despite the holiday, so he collected their plates and washed up, Emrys tidying the chairs in the pub, clearing out the fireplace. He wondered if Gareth would come by despite them being closed. Emrys usually let him in.
In his office, the work took him away, and he became lost in the minutiae of colour and shape and proportion. But after a time, halfway to solving the visual problems, his mind drifted back the previous evening when Emrys had very slowly unbuttoned his shirt, kissing him each time a button opened, then easing his arms out of the sleeves while leaving down and trailing his tongue over the surface of Derek's chest. Derek, content to being taken, let him; let him undo his pants very slowly, pulling the zipper of his jeans down, while trailing his fingers over the hardness in Derek's briefs.
Emrys, naked, had lain down in front of the fire and asked to fucked, had spread his legs and let Derek in, let him press himself into him, slowly. As slowly as Emrys had licked a line from under his cock up to the tip. Agonizingly slow. And now, as Derek began to move, feeling the warmth of Emrys accept him, envelop him, he kissed him again. He had felt Emrys' hands slide down his back, digging his fingers into his flesh until his gripped the bulk of his ass, then sliding his fingers lightly between then, touching, almost tickling, exploring.
Derek had reached an orgasm that took him both away and close, gasping into Emrys's mouth, feeling that he was injecting Emrys with his life and feeling Emrys accept it by nibbling at his ears, until his body slowed and his cock stilled, but pulsing slightly with the last of the energy.
He looked at the screen of his laptop and shook his head, feeling embarrassed despite no one seeing him. He shifted in his chair, adjusting the angle of the erection that seemed to follow him around as if he was a an adolescent who had discovered pleasure for the first time, and not an adult just approaching his fortieth year.
He switched to a new view of the graphic he was working on and then heard voices downstairs. Faint but given the silence of the day, unmistakable. He closed his laptop and left the little apartment and the voices grew louder as he descended the stairs.
When he emerged into the bar, he saw Emrys standing by the fireplace with a tall woman in a wool coat and dark slacks. She looked to be their age with long blonde hair streaked with silver. Her face was angular and he could see she had been beautiful, although still was but with the overlay of age or experience. Her eyes were bright and blue as she turned to look at him.
Emrys said, his voice oddly quiet, “Derek...this is Grace. We knew each other years ago now...how many?”
Grace laughed and shook her head. “Best not to know. I think I had just reached thirty?” She looked at Emrys for conformation.
Derek smiled, but realized he felt awkward, as if a piece of Emrys' life had been reveal to him, which it had. Derek finally managed to say, “Nice to meet you.”
Emrys, as if for an explanation, said, “Grace has moved to the neighbourhood and wanted to look me up.”
Nodding, Derek went behind the bar and said, “Anyone for a pint?”
They sat at a little table by the renewed fire with their glasses. Derek realized he was superfluous, since Grace wanted to go over their history. And Derek began to realize their history was a relationship of almost three years. It wasn't as if he denied that Emrys had had another life, of course he had, but he hadn't ever felt it was real. But here it was, in the flesh.
Eventually, Grace turned to him. “Emrys tells me you are in graphic arts? I admit I hardly know what that means...” She smiled with what he felt was false modesty.
“Oh, adverts for agencies. You know, like those vast posters of beautiful people selling the latest fragrance?”
“Right. So you're responsible for those, are you?”
“I suppose I am.”
It felt nice to be acknowledge, but Derek could tell that some sort of old energy was being ignited in her. She seemed to be very eager to look at Emrys, to hear from him, to touch his arm every so often. He started to feel like the other version of being adolescent: mindlessly and caustically jealous.
Eventually, Emrys got up and made them some dinner and it became clear that Grace was staying. Derek tried to think of a way to prevent it, but he couldn't manage to find a reason that didn't sound daft. They ate their stew and drank too much wine. Of course she couldn't drive. When Derek finally begged exhaustion, he regretfully left the two of them in front of the fire.
As he lay in bed, his head spinning, his body a little numb, he tried to convince himself that there was no danger. That Emrys had attached himself to him and his fear of the proverbial perilous and untrustworthiness of bisexual men was just a ridiculous myth, which he knew it was, except for that moment, on that October evening after that much wine.
He woke up to feel Emrys sliding into bed and kissing his shoulder, pulling him close and drifting into sleep. Derek then lay awake for a while, trying to believe the solidity of Emrys' body against his. He reached for Emrys' cock and held it, as if to remind himself of his reality.
Somewhere in him, he felt a familiar trope; the old feeling that he couldn't be enough for someone coming to the fore like a vengeful spirit that had been banished but now, unleashed, would stalk his mind, jabbering and shrill.
When he came down for breakfast, Grace had gone, the pub quiet as Emrys prepared the day's menu. Shakily, Derek had breakfast, kissed Emrys a little more exuberantly than he expected and went upstairs to work.
A week passed and November darkened the skies, stealing the remnants of summer's brightness. Derek walked often, the hills above the village a novelty to his Cardiff-trained eyes. He and Emrys had found a rhythm together, he realized. A rhythm between his daily work, and Emrys' various duties as publican, innkeeper and cook, along with quiet times by the fire or in bed, where they had found another rhythm. The wind was chill up on the heights, but it was exhilarating. He almost forgot about Grace and her cheery voice.
The following Friday was snowy and the roads were sloppy with half melted ice. He went to Llanidloes with a list from Emrys to stock the kitchen – upstairs and down. There was smaller shop that Derek preferred to Tesco, and he spent some time looking over the products, inspecting the vegetables. It reminded him of shopping excursions with his mum.
“You mind those tomatoes. I think they've been irradiated.”
He turned to see a man in a black jacket with a dark trimmed beard and big brown eyes. He was smiling at him in a way that seemed to suggest Derek should know him. “I believe it.” He turned back to the tomatoes, not wanting to give him more.
“I think I've seen you by The Red Deer have I not?”
Derek felt surprise, wondering if he had seen this fellow and forgotten. “You might have. It is where I live.”
He wanted to say 'now' but realized it felt better to take ownership.
The man grinned and adjusted his grip on the cart full of groceries in front of him. It felt like an oddly domestic moment. “My da you know well. Gareth.”
Then Derek remembered glimpsing this fellow coming out of Gareth's house a few days before. “Ah, yes. I'm sorry. I did see you. How is Gareth?”
The man cleared his throat and said instead, “I'm Hugh...you are?”
“Derek. You know Emrys?”
“Ah, we go way back. I grew up there, you know. But I knew Patrick better.”
Then Derek understood. This was who Gareth was saying had been with Patrick when they both were young. “Your father mentioned you and Patrick...”
Hugh burst you laughing, his face reddening. “Oh my da. He will not keep his mouth shut now will he? Yes, Patrick and I spent some good time together. In and out of each other's nickers.”
Derek had to laugh. Hugh's almost merry response seemed to lighten the moment. “Are you back to take care of him a bit?”
Looking more serious, Hugh said, “Yes. He's getting weaker. I'm sure you've noticed?”
It was true. Gareth had seemed diminished since the summer. Derek found himself looking at a tattoo on Hugh's forearm of a dragon in flight. It was, he thought, beautiful. Derek shook his head as if clearing out dust. “Well Hugh. Perhaps we'll see you at the pub? I need to finish here so Emrys has something to feed his guests.”
Hugh smiled, but then said, “I don't think Emrys likes me very much. He thinks I treated his brother badly. But to my mind, it was the other way round.”
Derek had no idea how to respond, so he just said, “I'll see you then.”
He watched Hugh walk away, wondering what had happened all those years ago.
“I ran into Hugh at the shops today.”
Emrys nodded. “I've seen him. I'm glad he's here for Gareth.”
Derek could tell the answer was complicated, despite having so few words. The pub was busy, so he got out of Emrys' way and waited until later to ask him more.
With a sigh, Emrys said, “He and Patrick...well, I told you that. He went a little crazy when Patrick broke it off.”
“Hugh said you treated him badly.”
With a long sigh, Emrys took his hand. “I suppose I did. I was as young as they were. What did I know of anything? I hope he comes by. I would like to see him.”
Derek was surprised by the contrition in his voice. He was laying with his head in Emrys' lap who was stroking his hair, running his fingers though it as if his hand were a comb. Derek said, “I think he would like that. You should go over and say hello.”
Emrys nodded and leaned down and kissed him on the nose. The he said, “I'm going to a film with Grace tomorrow in town. It's some French thing, I think.”
Derek looked up, feeling surprised. “A film?”
He could see understanding on Emrys' face. “Derek. She and I haven't been together in a decade. She wants to reconnect and I think it would be nice. I've always liked her even if being in a relationship was impossible.”
Not knowing what to say to the acidic roiling of his stomach, he just took Emrys' hand and kissed it. He knew he was in the thrall of an old story, but he couldn't stop it.
He forced himself to be cheery. “That's grand, Emrys. I'm glad.” He hoped he'd been convincing.
They stayed quiet for a while, but then Emrys leaned down again and kissed him more forcefully, with more intent. Derek was relieved to be feeling Emrys' hands slide into his trousers, which he undid and Emrys pulled them down. He massaged his cock into hardness through his briefs, then pulled them down before bending over and engulfing Derek's cock with his mouth. Derek gasped and pushed him down, thrusting up, feeling wicked, feeling angry, feeling guilty.
When he came, he threw his head back, while Emrys, swallowing, frantically pulled off his own pants and almost roughly pushed himself into Derek, who felt overcome, but somehow liberated by the seeming aggression that was really just eagerness, as Emrys fucked him with increasing speed, finally collapsing, their bodies entwined and damp, their breathing in tandem. He felt sore and sticky as Emrys pulled himself out, their mouths still together. Derek ran his hand though Emrys' hair slowly, as if for the first time.
When Emrys left to meet Grace the next afternoon, Derek tried to work, but he couldn't focus, finding himself scrolling through dark news stories out of Gaza or Columbia. He went down to the pub and thought about dinner but in the end just ate a sandwich. He wondered if he should be more active, have more friends although other than Gareth, all his friends were in Cardiff or Toronto.
Finishing a bottle of wine, he stumbled up to bed, collapsing into the blankets, relieved that sleep would take away the ever-present burning in his stomach.
He woke briefly when Emrys crawled into bed beside him and kissed his face a few times. Derek felt relieved but also aware that it was very late and it felt like something had happened the meaning of which was just out of sight.
But the morning brought a comforting sameness. Emrys rose early as usual, prepared the day's food, hoovered the bar, cleaning the fireplace and began to greet regulars and tourists for lunch. Derek had taken to acting as a waiter and he enjoyed the little rhythm they had discovered between taking orders to tables, and depositing finished plates on the bar, smiling at Emrys, exchanging the occasional joke, clasping hands briefly.
On Thursday, Grace came for lunch and Derek decided to go upstairs and concentrate on work and not on the sick feeling in his stomach. But he was restless and went downstairs and seeing Grace at the bar eating chips, he slipped out the back door headed for his usual walk up the ridge. It was blustery day that suggested snow, but he wanted the chill exhilaration. He crossed the road but stopped when he heard his name. It was Hugh, standing in front of Gareth's cottage waving. He waited while Gareth came up to him. He had a big sweater on under a jacket and his hair was blowing about in the breeze.
“Hiking are we? Care if I join?”
“How is Gareth?”
“Oh, he's better. The doctor say he's had an infection but it seems to be passing. He's started ordering me about so I'm taking that as a good sign.”
They walked along a hedgerow that led to a path that wound up the ridge. Derek was glad of the company, feeling unsettled. He wished Grace had stayed home, minded her own business.
Hugh told him about his work – carpentry – in Swansea. He talked easily and Derek had only to ask a simple question to get him going.
They stood at the crest of the ridge looking out over the plane to the south and watched the light from breaks in the clouds cast bright shapes of light on the fields below, followed by darker shade. Derek was about to turn and start back, when Hugh moved close and kissed him, putting his hand between his legs, gripping him.
“We could have some fun, Derek, while Emrys is at work...”
Feeling shocked as if these kinds of things should never happened, Derek stepped back. “Hugh, I...I don't think that would be a very good idea.”
He turned and started to walk back the way they came. Hugh caught up and was beside him, and Derek could tell he was looking at him. “You two don't have that kind of relationship, I suppose. I meant no disrespect.”
Guiltily, Derek said, “No, we don't. And I'm chuffed that you think so highly of my looks, but...”
Hugh laughed and said, “I'm glad you take it that way, Derek. You're a catch, you are.”
Despite feeling pleased at the attention, Derek wanted to get away from him, wanted to enjoy his jealousy with no antidotes and certainly not that one in the form of a fuck that would no doubt be thrilling, but not the point.
He got back to the pub and Grace was still there, now talking to a renewed Gareth who he was glad to see out. He pulled himself a pint and kissed Emrys on the cheek and went and sat with them, determined to not feel young and vulnerable any more.
Gareth grinned at him. “You met my son then, I see.”
Swallowing a mouthful of his bitter, he said, “I did, Gareth. He looks like you.”
“Aye, he does. The bugger. He's come up from Swansea to see me off so he can get my house.”
Gwen looked shocked, but Derek could hear the affection in his voice for his son. He turned to Grace and said, “He's all bark, Grace, but he's soft as a cream cake.”
Gareth tried to look fierce, but ended up smiling happily.
Later, in bed, Emrys kissed him and ran his tongue over his chest. Derek could see the thinning patch of hair at the top of Emrys' head which suddenly seemed vulnerable. Emrys bit one of his nipples and Derek moaned at the sharpness of the pleasure. Emrys said, “You seem a little distant. Is everything all right?”
Not wanting to say anything about his infantile fantasies of being left for Emrys' old flame, he said, “No, I'm fine. I think it's the approach of winter. It makes me moody.”
Emrys grinned at him and pulled himself up and sat on his chest, stroking himself. “I can distract you...”
When Emrys leaned forward and ran his cock over his lips, and when he slid it into his mouth and thrust into his throat, Derek was distracted. And after he had thrown Emrys backward on the bed and fucked him, his legs thrown over his shoulders, and after he had let himself be sucked to a dizzying climax that Emrys proceeded to feed back to him in a long kiss, he was taken away. But when they fell into a doze in each other's arms, a strong wind blowing off the ocean, little voices began to ask questions in his head.
At the end of November, Emrys and Grace went to another film and presumably would be return late. Not wanting to be alone, and telling himself he could not be alone, he walked over to Gareth's to see if Hugh was in.
When Hugh opened the door he said, “Derek...come in. Have some whiskey. Dad's asleep, and I've a fire and nothing to do.”
“Thanks, Hugh. I wasn't sure if you were still here.”
“Oh, my da wants me to stay until Christmas, I fear.”
Derek sat on a surprisingly comfortable wreck of a chair in front of the fire. Hugh handed him a glass with whiskey that he thought was unnecessary, but he took it gratefully.
“Cheers, Derek.”
Their glasses met with a small clink and he swallowed a mouthful which burned in his throat. They talked idly about current affairs and the state of the world which seemed a universe away from the tiny cottage in the middle of Wales.
Finally, Hugh said, “Emrys is at a film, you say?”
“Yes. With Grace. Something Russian this time.”
Hugh looked at him a moment. “You don't seem pleased.”
He said the one thing he was sure of. “Grace is angling for at least a fuck, I think. They used to be together, years ago.”
Nodding, Hugh said, “I see. You think she's trying to rekindle something?”
“I suppose. Emrys doesn't see it.”
“Maybe he does and knows it won't work.”
Looking at the bottom of his glass, seeing his knee through a caramel-coloured haze, he realized he hadn't thought of the possibility. “I suppose.” He looked at Hugh, feeling more guilty. He drained his glass. “Thanks for this...I should get back.”
“Stay. Have another.”
“Thanks, but no.”
They got up at the same time. Hugh pulled him suddenly and kissed him, hard. He took hold of his buttocks and pulled him even closer. He could feel the hardness in Hugh's pants, feel his own respond. He smelt different than Emrys and the difference was exciting. Hugh pushed his hand into Derek's pants, grasping the ass, then pushing his fingers in between, insistent. His tongue was battling with his own, and they both tasted of whiskey. He could feel Hugh's breath on his face, feel his heat. He pushed Derek back onto the chair and was unfastening his jeans almost impatiently. When he pulled out a thick, desperate-looking cock, Derek felt himself wake up.
He pulled himself from the chair and moved past Hugh. “I can't. I'm sorry...”
He flung himself out of the cottage and into a snowy night. The air was filled with it and the road was coated in white. He walked, feeling unsteady as if the one drink he had had was actually ten. He got to the pub and saw Graces' car. He stopped and Emrys got out followed by Grace who came around and hugged him for longer than Derek thought was necessary. But when she kissed him he stopped seeing and walked behind them as if they weren't there. All he had seen was her arms go round his torso. He walked blindly up the stairs and flung his clothes off, crawling into their bed, willing himself to sleep so he wouldn't have to think.
But he couldn't. The snow made a scratchy sound on the windows and Emrys didn't come in and that felt inevitable, as if it was the culmination of all the little gremlins in his head having their moment of triumph, saying 'See, this is what always happens.”
