Conclusion
Opening his eyes, Derek realized he had dozed off. The room was dark and he could hear the sound of dishes, and the lights were on in the rest of the flat. He pulled himself out of bed and wrapped his robe over himself. Feeling cold, he dug some wool socks out of a drawer. He suddenly felt ridiculous, as if he was a homeless person about to wander into a warm house asking to be fed.
Emrys was sitting on the sofa, a blanket over his knees as if he was an old man. He looked at Derek for a moment, then down at his hands which were crumpled together in his lap. Not wanting to talk yet, Derek went and found the kettle boiled and he realized Emrys had been in the middle of making tea when he had abandoned the project.
He threw teabags in the pot and poured over the hot water, collected mugs and the milk jug all on a tray and brought it to Emrys, placing it on the table in front of the sofa. Derek sat down and, feeling like his mother who would make tea compulsively when there was a crisis, filled their mugs, added milk and handed one to Emrys.
Again, Emrys gave him a hollow look, but he said, “Thanks.”
They sipped from their mugs in silence for a moment. Finally, Derek knew he had to say something. “Grace got home all right?” He couldn't look at Emrys.
“I expect so. Derek, I...”
“Don't bother.”
He could tell this caught something in Emrys, who looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? You were all over each other by the car. What more is there to say?”
Emrys shut his mouth as if he had been silenced. But looking at him, Derek realized his reaction was not what he expected. Not contrition. Or guilt. It was something else. Had he misjudged?
Taking another sip of his tea, Emrys put it down. “No.”
It was a response to a question he hadn't asked. “No?”
“No. You have it wrong.”
“Emrys, I saw you...”
“Yes, you did. You saw us. But you didn't see all of it, did you? You stalked inside without a word and slammed the door, as I recall.”
Chastened without understanding why, Derek said, “But I didn't need to see more, did I?”
“Why are you so sure?”
He could tell that Emrys was getting angry and that was the most confusing thing of all. In his head, the chorus was just reciting the same litany about the nature of men and his worthiness to be treated badly by them.
Derek put his mug down, trying to will himself to be still, to be reasonable. He knew he was right and he wasn't going to be talked out of it. “Do you want to be with her?”
As soon as he said the words, he knew he had gone too far. Emrys got up and walked into the kitchen. He heard a cupboard door open and close then he returned with some shortbread in a packet which he flung on the table between them. He sighed and, sitting down again, opened them, handing one to Derek who took it without understanding what was going on.
Finally, Emrys said, “It's your worst fear, isn't it. That someone like myself, or Patrick, will throw you over for someone more interesting.”
Taking a bite of the biscuit, Derek felt the sting of being seen, and the voices in his head stopped cold, and he was faced with silence in his mind. Was that true? He lay his head on the back of the sofa, closing his eyes, chewing on the sweetness. He looked over at Emrys, who looked less angry, more in pain, his eyes bright, but clouded. “But you were...”
“Derek. Listen to me. Yes, she hugged me and kissed me. You saw that. But you went inside before you saw me push her away. You missed the part where I told her that what she wanted was not possible. You didn't hear the conversation we had where she told me she didn't believe I was really interested in men, that it was an escape or some foolishness like that. She drove off in a state and I stayed outside for a while, cooling off, getting my head around it. You missed all that. You jumped to a conclusion that I suspect you alway jump to. You're wrong.”
Derek lifted his head, looking at Emrys, feeling his stomach sinking into the floor. Had he mistaken the whole thing. His impression had felt so real, so accurate. He could tell Emrys was close to tears, something he had never seen. Derek realized his eyes were also filling, blurring the vision of the room. He reached for his mug and drank the scalding tea.
“Derek? Can you say something?”
He put his mug down and looked at Emrys again. “I thought you were...”
Emrys reached for his hand which he allowed to be taken. “I know. You weren't wrong about that, but you didn't have the whole picture. Derek, I'm with you. I love you for fuck's sake. I wouldn't do that.”
Now Derek was crying. The guilt felt acidic in his body. He wanted Emrys to wrap himself around him, but he also wanted to be left in the road like abandoned furniture. They sat for a while not speaking. Finally, Emrys said, “Let's go to bed.”
He stood and pulled Derek up. He didn't embrace him which Derek wasn't sure he could bear, but he led him to bed where he took his dressing gown off, and then took his own off and pulled him into bed. Instead of embracing him, he kissed Derek on the forehead and turned. Derek lay, frozen, anguished, unable to understand the cacophony of feelings in him. It wasn't just that he had been wrong, it was that he had felt so certain and that being wrong was almost unbearable. What could he trust about himself if he couldn't trust this?
He thought of Patrick and how he had been so sure that he had loved him completely, only to discover that Patrick had other ideas. Other motives. Or Jonathan in Toronto who had seemed so eager but by that point, Derek knew the signs and had run as fast as could. Without, he realized with an almost physical shock, waiting to hear if he had been right. Because he was sure he was right. Seth was meant to be the antidote since at first he was so ardent, so open, so vulnerable and he had almost let himself be taken in until Seth himself seemed to become some other person who distrusted every moment even if each appraisal contradicted the one that came before it. Seth was, he realized, a bit like him.
He lay awake, realizing he knew nothing.
Sounds from the kitchen below woke him. He pulled himself from bed feeling raw, as if he hadn't slept at all. The guilt was still there, but it had moved on to more productive subjects. Like Hugh.
He put on his lounge pants and a sweater and made his way to the kitchen, the fireplace. Emrys had poured him coffee and was a little pile of toast at the bar. He sat, feeling stupid, feeling like he was about to be driven out of the house. He said, “I'm sorry, Emrys.”
He got no response which felt worse than anything. He sipped his coffee, hoping to be taken away by a cataclysm. After a few moments, Emrys sat beside him, saying “I know.”
They ate in silence and Derek madly thought that if they could fuck right then and there, everything would be fine. But he kept eating.
Emrys cleared the plates and poured them more coffee. He said, “Come and sit by the fire, Derek. It's cold.”
Derek noticed the fired was bright and hot and it was the kind of day when Gareth would come and spend the afternoon, as if he had no fireplace of his own. But he had a son staying, assuming he was still there.
When they were sitting, he felt Emrys' foot rubbing his own which felt both a relief and torturous. The fire was heating his legs. Finally, after overcoming waves of shamed inhibition, he said, “Hugh tried to have sex with me last night while you were out.”
Emrys put his mug down and Derek, for a moment, thought he might get up and order him out into the street. But he said, “Oh did he? The little devil.”
Derek looked into Emrys' eyes which had a playful gleam in them which didn't make any sense.
Then Emrys continued. “And...what did you do?”
Taking a deep breath, Derek said, “I got out of there. I mean...I was flattered. I was into it for a second, because...well you know, he's not bad looking. But I couldn't do it, Emrys. I feel so bad.
“Why on earth would you feel bad?”
Now Derek was confused again. He felt tawdry, like a bad romance novel come to life. “Because, I let him, for a second. I could have seen myself doing it. He had his hand in my pants, after all.”
Emrys had a maddening grin on his face that made no sense to him. “You were hard, I hope?”
Derek winced. “Yes...”
With a little laugh, Emrys leaned forward and kissed him. “But now you're here. Derek, don't you see? We both had a little moment with someone. I won't lie to you. If I had been single I would have taken Grace to bed. And you had a moment and you made a choice. I don't quite understand why you're torturing yourself.”
Was he torturing himself? But he knew the answer. Of course he was. It felt like the right thing to do, as he always had done. But he also knew that there was a very good chance that what felt right sometimes was only right because some ghostly moment from the past said it was, not because it was right now, here, with Emrys. He took a deep breath, then another, as if the oxygen, the warm air, the quiet of this old building would nourish him in some way he still didn't understand. He said, gripping Emrys' hand, “I am, aren't I?”
With a nod, Emrys stood up and extended his hand to him. “Come.”
Not understanding, Derek stood up and Emrys led him down the hall, up the crooked, age-old stairway and into the apartment, into the bedroom where they didn't, as he expected, turn to each other with the relieved sex of lovers who have reconciled after a tense argument. They turned to each other and just lay still as if they weren't quite convinced the other was there and were waiting to see if the stillness was a mirage. They lay into the afternoon, until Emrys kissed him and went downstairs to resume his normal day.
The next morning Emrys was up with the usual industriousness he always had. The pub opened for lunch and Derek helped serve and clean and entertain Gareth who came in, tottering a little more but with just as much twinkly humour as always, telling them his son had been disloyal and gone back to his flat in Swansea which Derek was quietly relieved by.
During the quiet of the late afternoon, before any locals appeared for pints or dinner, Grace called and Emrys graciously accepted her apology to him, and to Derek, for letting her middle-age desperation get the better of her. They agreed to see a film after the holidays which Derek accepted despite a part of him wanting her to suffer a little more even though he knew it was his own childish fears that needed to atone for whatever had happened with Emrys.
And once the last dinner was served and the fire let turn to glowing ash, and the kitchen cleaned, the bar wiped, the lights turned off and the main door locked, they retired upstairs to little glasses of whiskey and some quiet music.
Derek finally said, looking at the fire in the tiny fireplace that was the poor cousin of the one downstairs, “I suppose I have to believe you. I mean, that you are really here. That you want me to be here, I suppose.”
Emrys put his glass down and smiled. “Yes.” He reached for the collar of Derek's shirt and began to unbutton it, pausing between each button to lean over and kiss him cheek, his forehead, brush his lips with his very softly.
Derek, slightly hypnotized by Emrys' careful movements, the warmth of his breath on his face, said, “I won't say that I'm sorry. Not that I shouldn't, but that it isn't the point.” He paused while Emrys pulled his arms out of the sleeves. He glanced at his belly that slightly sagged at the waist of his pants. “And it was exciting to have Hugh kiss me, to be all randy and show me his cock. Kind of exciting.”
Emrys smiled again, and kissed his neck, slowly ran his tongue over his collar-bone, licking in slow patterns over to his nipple, sucking it slowly while running his hand over the other side of his chest down to his belly, then back up, trailing his hands over his flesh. Derek could feel a scintillating spray on his skin and he shivered.
Emrys said, “How exciting?”
Realizing he was smiling, Derek said, “Oh about this exciting.”
He watched Emrys unfasten the button of his jeans and he lifted his hips so Emrys could tug them down his thighs, then pull his legs out of them. His white briefs were tight and he could see the outline of his cock pressing the fabric out. Emrys leaned down and inhaled, rubbing his nose over the hardness, them opening his mouth over the fabric-covered head, his tongue pressing which made Derek catch his breath.
He reached down and began to pull Emrys jumper over his head, the wool feeling hot in his hands. He tossed it to the floor, before tugging at his shirt. Emrys' back seemed so smooth, his neck so strong. Emrys suddenly pulled Derek's briefs down and his cock was suddenly exposed to the cool air, but was immediately wrapped up in Emrys warm mouth, massaged by his tongue.
Then Emrys sat up and let Derek remove his trousers, helping him by stepping out of them and he had nothing on underneath which for some reason excited Derek even more. His cock was hot and rigid and he moved his hips forward so his met Derek's and Derek took them both in his fist as they looked at each other with little smiles. He slowly stroked them together and Emrys' mouth opened a little as if he was going to say something.
Derek pulled back and leaned down and kissed the head of Emrys' cock, smelling his Emrys smell, tasting his body, his heat as he slid the whole thing in his mouth, running his tongue all over it. Emrys gently pushed himself forward, running his hands through Derek's hair.
But Derek wanted more. He pulled back, Emrys' cock shiny and eager and said, “I want to fuck you, Emrys.”
He stood up and took Emrys by the hand and they walked into the tiny bedroom where Derek gently pushed Emrys down on his back, his body moving down with him so that he was looking down into his face, the lustre of his eyes glinting in the dim light. Emrys took hold of him, running the head of his cock all over his, then down, over the hair of his balls, then further, pressing the head into him. Derek gasped and let him, then began to add his own pressure.
And Emrys opened to him as he always did and some translation from emotion to act felt evident to Derek; that Emrys was just open and how wondrous was that? Derek's cock slid very slowly into him, and Emrys' body warmed him, accepted him, held his cock firmly, but still let him begin to move, then push, to retreat, to slide in deeper, and back, and move still deeper until their bodies were together, their lips now joined, their tongues telling stories. He pushed his hands underneath Emrys' torso and pulled him up so Emrys was almost seated, but with Derek still deep inside him. Derek managed to move his legs at the same time so he could still push and thrust. A bit awkwardly, but in a way that allowed him to hold Emrys' gaze, and kiss him.
But then Emrys pushed him back, and after rearranging their limbs and Derek sliding out before, once he was on his back, pushing into him again, Emrys looking down at him, his own cock in his hand that he stroked slowly, their eyes never leaving each other. Emrys began to push down as Derek thrust up and they managed an easy, yet opposite cadence that gradually increased in energy.
It was somewhere in the slow movements that seemed to allow every nerve in Derek's cock to be massaged that eventually, almost as if he wasn't expecting it, a small fire was lit that quickly became a conflagration, and his whole body began to tremble and Emrys smiled as he watched him and Derek shut his eyes and was able to let it happen, let his body empty itself into Emrys who, just as suddenly, started to gasp and shake and he felt the hot liquid pouring from his cock splash his face and neck, run down his chin and then dribble onto his chest.
Emrys fist was coated and Derek wiped a little out of his eye with a laugh. Emrys leaned down unsteadily, but kissed him and his juices that were coating Derek's lips were part of the kiss.
Pulling himself off Derek, Emrys lay down beside him, kissing the spots of his cum off Derek's chin, and caressing his chest, breathing more slowly, until they stopped moving. Derek felt Emrys breath become one with is own. He watched his cock slowly relax and soften, still running with liquid. The air was still, the house was silent. Just before Derek slipped into sleep, he felt Emrys reach for the quilt which he pulled over top of them and Derek turned and embraced him from behind, his arm underneath Emrys' neck, his other hand resting between Emrys' buttocks, damp and warm.
As every mornings, Emrys rose on Christmas morning just as dawn was considering arriving, even though at that time of year, with the stillness all around them, the morning would be dark for many hours more. Derek got up with him, and they showered together. The inn was open and they had some guests in the rooms – an overflow of guests from Cardiff and Bristol attending a family gathering up the road – so Emrys had their breakfast to prepare, as well as their own.
The guests were cheery and hung over from Christmas Eve revels, and he and Emrys joined in their coffee and sausages, eggs and croissants. The fire was blazing and when Gareth showed up with a grin and asked for whiskey at ten in the morning, Emrys poured it with a laugh and poured some for everyone and gave a long toast in Welsh that Derek only barely understood but produced laughter and a few tears.
When the guest drove off to their family lunch and Gareth, exhausted, back to his cottage for a midday nap, Emrys pulled him down in front of the fire and fucked him slowly, and Derek, believing at last that Emrys was, in fact, who Emrys was and not some revenant spirit from some darker part of his life, came all over the carpet with a choking sound, and they both imagined stories they might tell Gareth – or his son – about the source of the stains on the carpet.
After their lunch, the sun appeared and the sky cleared. They put on big sweaters and boots and went out into the day since Emrys had admitted that he had never in all the years he had lived in the village, walked up the ridge. Hand in hand, Derek led them along the winding path over frozen heather and gorse, lichen-covered outcroppings of stone until they reached the narrow apex and Emrys kissed him, and again, and then said, “I can't believe you've shown me what has always been outside my door.”
They stood for a time, at first enjoying the chill breeze that swept over the expanse before them, until the chill was no longer exhilarating but merely cold, and made their way back to the inn, to the ancient pub where they began to prepare a small Christmas dinner for themselves and for Gareth and a few locals who had no families. The pub was warm and the fire hot, and the whiskey flowed, and Derek, perhaps for the first time, began to believe that what had always felt familiar was actually just a mirage. That Emrys' hand on his shoulder meant what it meant, that his soft kiss at the end of the night was merely and magically just that.
