All Through The night

It’s been a year.

A year since I offered to wait in the great house for him to come home. A year since I looked at him and really saw him. A year since he crossed the distance between us and kissed me. A year since I really discovered the true meaning of love.

So much has happened. So many memories have been made… and not one… not one shows the true depths of how I feel for him.

But now. This year. Maybe it can be different.

My wife and son aren’t here. They’ve gone away. Gone to her parents’ house and her telegram tells me they’ll never come home to me. Tells me she’s had enough of my silences. Of my disappearances. Of my moodiness and lack of interest in her. So she’s gone, and she’ll send a man to carry their stuff away into the coldness of the winter.

I want to hurt. I DO hurt… and yet I feel nothing.

My whole life… everything I am and everything I WILL be, are caught up in Daniel. All my hopes. All my desires. All my fears. When he smiles, my heart sings. When he rages, my heart dies.

I was a person before I loved him. I was a man… but it seems like I can’t remember how it was. I can’t remember the man who got married. I can’t remember the man who cradled his newborn son. I want to hate myself for it, but I don’t. I just feel numb.

My family are gone, and all the dreams I had have been smashed to pieces… except the only thing I can think about is that the house is mine now. That it’s empty of prying eyes and listening ears. That I can have Daniel here. In my life. In my bed… and there’ll be no one to care.

I’ve decorated in my own fashion. Lit a fire in the parlour, and put clean sheets on the bed… just in case… just in case he lets me take him there… but the other Christmas traditions – the ones he hates so much, have been put aside. There’s no mistletoe. No holly or ivy. There’s no tree to put a star or angel on. We won’t pass a wassailing bowl, or be in church at midnight. Christmas and New Year will come and go and there’ll be nothing to show for it. Nothing to show because Daniel doesn’t believe in God anymore. Doesn’t believe in anything much. He wakes in the morning and goes restlessly through the days. He’s difficult and angry and his mother is at her wits end with him. The only time he settles and is content is when he comes to me, and we make love in the stable, or walk down by the river.

Not that we have ever REALLY made love. Not in the whole of this last year. We’ve fucked. Fucked furiously and wretchedly. His body has come apart in my arms. His strength has dissolved. He’s cried and screamed and hated and loved, and I’ve been there through all of it… and now… tonight… just like Christmas Eve only twelve months ago, he’s coming to me.

And this time…

This time it’ll be different.

It’s cold and white outside, and my son built a snowman before he left… so different to the one built at Daniel’s house last year. Or maybe not so much. That one was about hope… and so, in its way, is this one.

I didn’t know what was coming home to me last year. I don’t know what’s coming home to me now, either.

No one knows about us. Of course no one does. No one ever can. I have dreams of him moving in with me. Of his slippers standing beside mine on the hearth, and his coat hanging beside mine on the hook. I have dreams of him working the farm with me. Of him growing old with me, but it’s foolish and ridiculous, and I know it can never happen… or maybe it can. Maybe there’s some way that the two of us can work it out but, right now, I have to be happy that the house is ours and I can finally take him by the hands and lead him to a proper bed.

I’ve needed that for so long. Needed to lay him back against cool white sheets and let my mouth and fingers trace patterns over his beautiful skin… and it can happen. Here. Tonight. If he’s not too broken to let me.

When the knock on the door comes, I’m already up and pacing – unable to sit still. Watching the clock ticking… ticking… and it reminds me too much of last year. Of all that hope. Of all that pain.

He’s got a new scarf and gloves, and I smile at him as I open the door, because I bought them for him. Saved money I haven’t got so that he could have something from me. So that he could wear it close… and he does. He wears them proudly… and yet still no one can know.

“Daniel,” I say simply, and he comes inside and shyly holds out his hand.

“I thought…” he begins. “Tradition and all. OUR tradition.”

I look down and he has a sprig of mistletoe in his fingers and I can’t help but remember the way he looked in his uniform – battered and bruised and torn apart from what he’d been through.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I murmur, and draw him towards me, my hands so sure of themselves as they touch him.

“You thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I don’t know. It’s midnight on Christmas Eve. I didn’t know how you’d get out.”

“They’re at Church,” he reminds me. “Praising God. Looking up angels’ dresses.”

“Daniel,” I scold, and he shrugs at me because it means nothing to him anymore. “They go because they want to. It makes them feel better. Makes them feel like they’re doing something.”

“Probably praying for their son to stop being such a fucking head case,” he answers bitterly, “like that’s going to do any good at all.” He lets out a snort and I stroke my hand down his jaw.

“Not a head case,” I promise, but we both know that isn’t really true.

For a minute, we’re both silent, then he draws away from me a little and looks around him, taking it all in. I’m so much less than he is. So much poorer, and my heart thuds against my ribs suddenly, because it’s never mattered before that I have no money to keep him safe with… but it matters now. It matters more than I want to think about.

“So this is your hallway?” he asks softly.

“Yes. All of it,” I answer him, and step back, holding my hand out for his coat. “It’s not quite what you’re used to.”

“I like it,” he promises, “as long as there are no chestnuts and no…”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I assure him and he nods and half smiles.

“Is there a… a living room?”

“Daniel, it’s a farmhouse, not a cattle shed,” I laugh. “We have everything a man could wish for, including a fire.”

“Sorry. I’ve just… I’ve never been here before. I don’t picture you in a house. I picture you in the hay. Or in the grass. Naked. It’s… odd.” And the oddness seems to have had an impact on him, because he’s not as active as he usually is. Not as demanding. In fact, he seems almost calm and his hands are very gentle as they touch me.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No thank you,” he answers politely, and I lead the way into the living area, half smiling when his eyes open appreciatively wide at the cosiness of it. This isn’t like the huge room he’s used to. It’s smaller. Warmer. Older.

“Sit down,” I offer, and he hesitates, not knowing whether to sit on the couch or in the chair. “With me,” I suggest, and take his hand, leading him to the over-stuffed, half threadbare sofa and drawing him to sit down next to me.

“This is… I don’t know,” he begins, looking around him with half a frown on his face.

“Small?” I mutter good-humouredly, and he shakes his head.

“Nice,” he promises.

We sit there for a moment, and I realise I’m stroking his hand with the back of my thumb, something I don’t think we’ve ever had time to do before, and that’s startling. Daniel and I have been lovers for a year. We should have been able to do this before, but we haven’t. We’ve been too busy devouring each other. Too busy surviving.

“Does your mother know where you are?” I ask him, and he shakes his head. It’s usually dangerous ground to mention his family, but not tonight. Tonight he simply shrugs a shoulder and half smiles – his arm and leg pressed against mine in the semi-darkness of the room.

“I left a note,” he tells me unexpectedly. “I didn’t want them to worry or come looking for me. I think they’ve had enough of that.”

“What did you say?”

“That I was out and I was safe and I was well, and that I would join them for Christmas morning.” He pauses and looks at me. “Unless…”

“Unless?” I murmur back, and we both know what he’s thinking. Both know what he’s asking. He’s quieter than I’ve ever known him. His voice is gentle and soft, and I know he’s trying to ask if he can stay with me. Here. Tonight. Or maybe he’s asking if he can stay forever.

“It’s so quiet here,” he murmurs, and his eyes wander around the room again.

“No cattle,” I agree and he shakes his head.

“No guns,” he corrects, and it takes me a while to realise what he’s said.

“Oh… Daniel…” I breathe, and his face sort of crumples as he bends into me – my arms catching him as he falls against me. “Daniel…” I say again, and my stomach ripples with utter tenderness and love for him. “You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe. There’s peace here. I promise you there is.”

“I know that.”

“And we have all the time in the world. Tonight. Tomorrow. The day after.”

He nods his head and I know he’s listening to me, and I stroke the back of his head – running my fingers through the lengthened stands of his hair. He hasn’t had it cut since he came home and I don’t want him to ever change that.

It takes him a while to sit up and, when he does, his eyes are red and I don’t know if he’s been crying, or if he’s been rubbing them too hard. All I know is that his hair is a mess and he laughs at himself and tries to straighten himself out.

“I’m sorry,” he manages, and I know the laughter is false.

“You have nothing to be sorry FOR.”

“Yes I do. I’m not a whole man anymore, Jack. I haven’t been whole in a very long time – except sometimes… sometimes when I’m with you… when you’re inside me…”

“We can be together,” I tell him honestly. “They’re gone. They aren’t coming back.” And that is my own private hell to deal with. That mustn’t taint him. It mustn’t taint US. I’ve chosen to drive them away. I’ve chosen to let them go. That has nothing to do with Daniel.

“Will it be like this all the time?” he asks me.

“It’ll be hard work. If you stay. If you come to me. If… if I take you on at the farm here…”

“Take me on?”

“For decency’s sake, Daniel. If I tell your parents that some manual labour will do you the world of good… then you’ll have to work hard. Money doesn’t come by any gift of birth here. There are no fancy crystal goblets or family heirlooms. We work to earn what we have. We work to be able to buy bread for the table, and my wife and son are gone. Without them, I won’t be able to look after this land. I need someone to help. I need…”

“I want to do that. I want to be with you.”

“And I want you beside me… but you have to know… you have to understand that when I’m tired… when my bones are aching and my mind is filled with a thousand things that need doing…”

“You’ll still love me,” he nods quietly. “I know you’ll still love me.”

“I’ll ALWAYS love you,” I promise fiercely, and take his face in my hands. “Always.”

“Even when you’re angry with me and tired from a day out, and you think I’m not doing all I should be doing…”

“Yes, Daniel,” I answer, and then laugh at him, because the seriousness of this is a massive weight in my guts… and it doesn’t need to be. He understands.

“I’d like to see you angry.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“And I’d like to see you tired.”

“Daniel…”

“And I’d like to see you naked. In a bed. Waiting for me…”

“That can be arranged,” I promise and he smiles. A real smile. A smile that lights up his face and sparkles through his eyes, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. Don’t think I really even know who this man is.

“This is home, isn’t it?” he asks, and I nod slowly at him.

“If you want it to be, yes.”

“I want it to be,” he tells me clearly and glances at the window. “And I want to wake up in the morning and pull open your curtains and survey what’s mine.”

“It’s MINE, Daniel…” I answer him carefully. “My land. I don’t…”

“I’ll be looking at YOU,” he answers softly, “not the world outside.”

“Oh,” I answer, and then suddenly work out what he’s said. “OH! Yours. I’m… you think… you think I’m yours?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I nod emphatically. “God, yes.”

“And it’s late.”

“And I’m tired,” I add on.

“And the stairs look…”

“Steep?”

“…inviting…”

“Daniel…”

“Let’s just go up, Jack,” he answers me, looking right into my eyes. “It’s Christmas morning already, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Nor do I,” I promise him, and take hold of his hand.

It’s odd to be leading him up to my room. Odd to think that for so many years it was Sara I was taking to bed, and my heart twinges painfully as I pass Charlie’s room and have to acknowledge that it’s over. That he’s gone. That my son will grow up not being allowed to know me… and I don’t know if the price is worth it. I want it to be. I tell myself it is… but without Charlie, I’m not sure who I am… and the door to his room is a black, cavernous smudge as I walk by it.

“Jack?” Daniel asks gently, and I’m surprised at his perception because that isn’t a Daniel I’ve ever really known in the whole of this past year. He’s had too much to deal with himself. Too much anger and fear and despair… so to know he’s noticed my hesitation makes my torn heart sing a little.

“It’s okay,” I promise, and he squeezes my fingers.

“He can come to stay with us. She can’t stop that.”

“No,” I answer, but I know she can, and she will. Charlie’s dead to me now… just like I’m dead to him.

“Are you… are you sure…?” he asks falteringly, and I pause and turn and lean in to him, resting our foreheads together and breathing in the scent of him.

“Daniel…” I murmur, and his arms go around me, comforting me, and that makes my heart swell even more, because this isn’t how it is with us.

“There’s peace here,” he promises. “For both of us.”

“There will be,” I nod in return, and hold him close to me.

“And I want to do it differently tonight, Jack,” he whispers into my ear. “I don’t want it to be rough. I don’t need you to make the screaming stop.”

“What DO you need?” I ask him, skimming my hands down over his sides.

“I need you to make love to me,” he murmurs, and his head moves so that his lips can trail delicately over mine. “Slowly. Gently.”

“God, yes,” I answer.

“I want you to take all night.”

“I can do that,” I promise and rub my mouth over his.

“All night…” he breathes again, and I kiss him properly this time, opening his lips with mine and pulling him to me so that our bodies are crushed together. It’s passionate. Wanton… but at the same time it’s deeper and more intense than any kiss we’ve ever shared. More intense because, for the first time, it feels as if we’re kissing as equals. I’m not kissing a frightened man. I’m not kissing an injured one. I’m not kissing a man who can’t be everything to me because his mind is half taken up with fighting against the pain inside him.

This is a Daniel I don’t know and I’ve never met. This is a Daniel I’ve never even known in letters.

This is the REAL Daniel, and my throat crowds with emotion at the knowledge that he finally feels safe.

We roll each other down the rest of the hallway and into my bedroom, and I’m glad I changed the sheets because the smell of them is enticing and fresh. The fire is burning low in the grate and the chill in the air only heightens the way he kisses me.

“Undress me,” he demands roughly, and I bring my hands to his shoulders and start yanking. I’m used to undressing him. Used to him being naked. But not like this. Not used to taking my time. Not used to his bare skin glowing in the dim light from the fire. Not used to taking a step back and holding my breath as I survey him standing in front of me.

He’s tall and broad and strong, and the barely flickering light casts long shadows over his soft skin. He’s aroused – his dick swaying gently, and I undress myself as he stands there, revealing a body that is differently strong to his, and skin that hasn’t been soft in a lot of years.

“I’ve never really looked at you,” he tells me throatily, and I know that’s true. We’ve only fucked. We’ve never loved.

“It’s all yours… if you want it,” I answer him, and he nods his head, eyes straying over me and coming to rest on my dick.

“I love the way you feel inside me,” he promises.

“I love BEING inside you.”

“When you push… when you go really deep…”

“I like that, too.”

“I don’t want that to end tonight.”

“I know,” I whisper, and I DO know. I know he wants me to push into him and hold… hold… hold… while our worlds come crumbling down around us.

He swallows and half smiles, and I smile tentatively back, then reach out and cup his cheek in my hand. He leans into me, closing his eyes, and I close the gap between us and kiss him. Kiss him more tenderly than I’ve ever kissed him before. Kiss him with everything I have, and everything I am, and he answers me. I draw him close and move him backwards, and he sighs as he lies down on the cool sheets.

I try to lie next to him, but he guides me on top, letting me cradle his face between my hands while he trails slow fingers up and down my body… and we kiss. Hungrily. Needily. We kiss until our lips are sore and our tongues exhausted, and then he pushes me and I roll, and he straddles me and leans down to start the kissing all over again.

The clock chimes in the living room below us… and then I hear it again… and again… and we’re still kissing. Still holding each other.

I lose track of time. Lose track of everything. All there is, is Daniel. It’s all I WANT there to be.

I don’t know when my mouth leaves his. I don’t know when I start to explore his body, or when he starts to explore mine. I don’t know how we know where to linger, because we’ve never had time to linger before. All I know is that he arches in my arms and whispers out my name, and I promise him I’ll make it last. Promise him I’ll make it good.

His thighs part for me, and I push my fingers up into him. One. Two. Three. Crowding him. Filling him. And he wants more, so I give it, and he rocks his head on the pillow and gasps out my name – letting me take whatever I want. Letting me tear at his senses.

“Daniel…” I murmur brokenly, and lower my mouth to his cock, suckling gently on it as it comes back to life. “I’ll stop…”

“I don’t want you to stop,” he grates out. “I never want you to stop.”

And I know he’s being honest. This is it for us. This is everything we’ve waited our whole lives for.

“Next time,” I whisper, easing my fingers out of him. “You can have them all next time.”

“Now…” he answers back, and I shake my head at him and kiss his trembling, sweating belly.

“No,” I murmur soothingly. “Wait a while. Let me make love to you properly first. Let me come inside you. I don’t want to break you before I’ve loved you.”

“I won’t break,” he groans, and I laugh softly at him and run my palm over his burning cock.

“I want to watch you come.”

“Together.”

“No,” I tell him surely. “I want to watch you first.”

I slide his dick into my fist and he arches and moans, his body twisting wretchedly on the sheet, and I pump carefully. Once. Twice. Taking my time, making sure I pull the skin just right… just enough… and he moans and lifts his hips, and so I do it again… slowly. Slowly. And then faster. Picking up the pace. Keeping a rhythm. Making him want it. Making him beg for it.

“Daniel…” I whisper. “My Daniel…”

And he groans and convulses, and come sprays out of him, flying up over his chest and across his face, and I lean down and suck him into my mouth, making him give me more. Give me everything… and then he’s mine. Mine for the taking.

I climb between his splayed legs and lift them, hooking them over my shoulders, then lean into him. Bend forward. Plant my hands firmly onto the bed and push into him. No stopping. No taking care. No waiting. It’s one long glide – up, up into his body. Up into his soul.

He cries out and shudders and I kiss his mouth, tasting his own come as I do so, and then I pull out of him and thrust back in. Long. Slow. Deep. And he begs me to do it again – his words nonsensical as he bites on his lip and grips his hands into the mussed sheet.

“Wait…” I tell him, and grind deep again. Holding. Holding just like I know he wants me to. “Daniel…” I say clearly. “Daniel, look at me.”

It takes him a while. A long while, and when he does manage to open his eyes, they’re sated and heavy and filled with pleasure.

“I love you,” I assure him, and screw my cock as deeply into him as I possibly can. “I love you, and you’re worth it. You’re worth everything.”

“Jack…” he gasps.

“And if you want my fist, I’ll give you my fist. And if you want my heart… you have it. And if you want my whole life…”

“I want your whole life,” he assures me, and I moan and screw deeper… impossibly deeper. “I want… I want your whole… your whole fucking life…Jack…”

“Daniel…” I grunt, and drop my face into his neck. “Daniel…”

“Come,” he pleads. “Come. Please. Please come…”

“Daniel…” I say again, and I know I’m losing the battle. My whole body is white-hot. I can’t feel my toes. Can’t feel my legs. Can’t feel my hands. All there is, is the place deep inside him where the end of my cock joins to him, and the heat is molten and all consuming, and I want to cry. Cry for everything and for nothing. Cry for a million reasons and for no reason at all. “Dan-iel,” I gasp. “Daniel…”

“I love you…” he hisses, and I groan and freeze, and my guts churn as my balls grow, grow, grow and then explode… IMplode… oceans and oceans of liquid spilling and erupting out of me to fill him up… right up… right up to the brim so that my balls are burning with the flood coming back out of him.

“I love you,” I sob into his neck, collapsing onto him while my body shakes and shudders. “I love you. I love you, Daniel. So much. So much…”

It’s a long time before I can move. A long time before I slump onto the bed next to him, my hand taking hold of his and hanging on tightly. I’m spinning. My mind whirling away to places and images I don’t understand or recognise, and he grounds me. Pulls me back to earth. Pulls me back to reality.

The clock chimes again, and my brain somehow counts the notes… five.

Five.

“All night,” he mutters, and lets out a soft, contented sigh.

“The cock will crow in a minute,” I whisper – my lips barely able to open.

“I think the cock already did,” he answers, and I can’t help laughing at him.

“This isn’t a cock you’ll want to know,” I promise, and the noise starts up outside. Ringing in Christmas morning. Ringing in the end of everything we’ve ever known, and the start of something new. “Daniel…” I begin, but he’s already moving beside me, climbing out of our warm bed and into the coldness of the bedroom.

“Are you getting up?” he asks, hands on his naked hips as he surveys me. “You’ve got a new life to show me, and I don’t want a lover who can’t get out of bed in the mornings!”

I laugh and dart up after him, catching him to me for a long kiss. “Are you all right?” I ask softly and he nods his head and smiles brilliantly at me – eyes clear and bright.

“There’s no noise in my head, Jack. I’m safe with you. I know it.”

“Merry Christmas, Daniel,” I whisper gently back. “Merry Christmas.”

contact pepe:  pepe@pepesplace.co.uk

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