Prayer, a devotional in particular, would feel hypocritical, a cheap distraction rather than an earnest penance.
He ended up reading for a long time, losing his thoughts gratefully in some Hornung and much Wordsworth. He tried his best not to think of what he and Jonah might soon be doing. He certainly tried not to dwell on the choice he’d made that afternoon to invite sin into his house. And in the midst of Lent, no less. O, merciful Father.
Also not to be too long dwelt on was his almost complete lack of carnal knowledge, how clumsy and virginal he was sure to feel. But perhaps he’d come to a point now where he would simply have to face up to it all and deal with the consequences of his decisions, deal with whatever Jonah brought through that door.
Silently, the doorknob on the back door turned. Matthew was quite certain he hadn’t even been looking at it, and yet his attention was on it immediately. His breath stopped as he watched the knob turn in full and the door swing slowly inward.
Jonah slid into the room in one smooth, silent action and let the door click shut behind him with the merest movement of his hip against it.
Matthew put his left hand out towards the lamp beside his armchair, intending to reduce its flame or perhaps extinguish it altogether.
‘Don’t,’ Jonah said, voice quiet. ‘Leave it how it is.’ As he spoke, he removed his helmet single-handedly and slung it by its chin strap over the door knob. His other hand was deftly undoing the buttons of his tunic. Once the heavy blue jacket was open, Jonah left it on, hanging loose upon him as he stood there, large and imposing in Matthew’s home. He unbuckled his gun belt and removed it, stuffing the weapons and most of the holster into the upturned helmet on the door handle, the whole time staring at Matthew over the few feet distance that separated them.
Matthew hadn’t been aware of standing, but he was soon striding across the room. He and Jonah collided together beside the table. Matthew couldn’t hold back the mewl of gratitude and relief that escaped him as Jonah’s hands caught at him and their mouths crushed together.
It was a better, wetter kiss than their first one after the bushfire. No smoke-sore throats or soot this time. Jonah compelled them both a couple of halting paces towards the bedroom, but then seemed to lose himself, sighing and fitting his hands about Matthew’s face, directing the kiss into a long, slow dance.
When they broke apart the merest distance to gather breath, Jonah flicked his gaze briefly down Matthew’s torso and back up again.
‘No cassock tonight, Father?’ His voice was full of cheek.
Matthew sucked in a breath. ‘No collar neither.’
Jonah tugged his own bottom lip between his teeth a moment then let it go, his eyes glittering. ‘Tryna make yourself less priestly for me?’
‘Trying to make myself less clothed for you, I thought,’ Matthew retorted. He was attempting boldness, but his voice betrayed him by coming out on a whisper.
Jonah laughed quietly and, hands still on Matthew’s face, kissed him again. When he resumed his advance towards the bedroom this time, their dance didn’t end until the backs of Matthew’s knees pressed against the side of the bed.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Matthew had one last, lucid thought regarding his dwindling opportunities to retake control of himself and put a halt to everything he was doing, to reassert his discipline and some piety. If I’m going to stop this, he thought quite clearly to himself, it probably has to be now.
Or now.
Or …
Now.
Matthew sunk backwards onto the bed and Jonah followed him down, kissing him soundly the entire way. The reality of two bodies pressing against one another was shocking. Matthew dragged his mouth away from Jonah’s and gasped in a lungful of air. Above him, Jonah held himself sufficiently still over Matthew’s body to drag his unbuttoned tunic away from his torso and discard it.
Jonah caught Matthew’s gaze, caught him looking at him, and grinned sharply. Then, getting his knees enough under himself to take his weight on the edge of the bed, he shrugged his braces from his shoulders and quickly unbuttoned his white uniform shirt.
Matthew could only lay back on the bed in wonder.
‘You liking this?’ Jonah pulled his open shirt away from his body and threw it aside. ‘Like what yer seeing?’ He flicked open the buttons on his union suit, pulling the short cotton sleeves off his shoulders so that the white undergarment fell about his waist. His torso was an inviting banquet of curves and planes, a light dusting of hair across his chest giving way to a darker trail that disappeared into his trousers.
There wasn’t much light in the bedroom, just that which radiated in from the lamp still burning in the other room, but it was enough for Matthew to drink in the form above him. Jonah’s flesh sported several incidental scars, hieroglyphs that told stories about the man wearing them. The most prominent one, Matthew sought out immediately, was the white smear of bullet wound the criminal Smith brothers had inflicted on Jonah’s left shoulder. It was a stark reminder to Matthew that this man who had stolen away to visit him, who was currently disrobing for his enjoyment, was a hero, a servant of the people. The fact that Jonah was so obviously prepared to risk his standing with those people, risk his hero’s reputation, to be here, doing this, made Matthew’s mouth turn dry.
Jonah let himself fall gracefully forward, settling over Matthew’s body as though he’d always belonged there and kissing him again like it was the easiest thing in the world. Then he slid to the side a small way so that he could raise a hand to the top button of Matthew’s shirt. He paused with thumb and finger toying with it, almost sliding it from its buttonhole, but not quite.
‘We doing this?’ he asked softly. ‘Shall I …?’ and he popped the button through the hole.
Matthew managed to nod and Jonah proceeded, swiftly unfastening Matthew’s shirt and letting it fall open to each side. Several buttons of Matthew’s union suit followed and Jonah leaned over, fitting his mouth back to Matthew’s as he stroked one hand into Matthew’s open clothes, touching his chest and ribcage. The caress sent bolts of delight throughout every inch of Matthew’s being. Jonah began exploring, depositing kisses not just on Matthew’s mouth, but upon his face, his throat and his collarbones. He even dragged his lips along Matthew’s jawline and opened his mouth over his Adam’s apple, his beard tickling Matthew’s skin.
‘You ever touched another bloke’s dick?’ The words were pressed against Matthew’s cheek as Jonah kissed him there like each word was an individual kiss on its own.
‘No! Never.’
Jonah raised his head and gazed down at Matthew with eyes gone quite dark, his pupils so large in the dim light. ‘Anyone ever touched yours?’
Some strange never before asserted part of Matthew wanted suddenly to lie, to demand the respect experience always garnered. But he was not experienced. Not at all. And to lie about it would only set him up to be quickly found out. The shame of being caught in the lie would burn twice as harsh as mere inexperience, he reminded himself.
‘No,’ he murmured, voice barely audible. ‘Not ever.’ He didn’t know what reaction his admission would elicit from Jonah, but the fond smile he received surprised him nonetheless. ‘I’m sorry I’m not more experienced for you.’
‘No need for apologies.’ Jonah was curled towards Matthew on his side, holding himself up on one elbow. His free hand settled low on Matthew’s stomach, fingers splayed, rubbing a soothing circle. ‘So … no one at all, then? No girls in your past?’
‘No one.’
The soothing hand on his stomach paused briefly. ‘You’ve touched yourself though, right?’
Matthew felt his cheeks flush. ‘I … try not to make a habit of it.’
Jonah was wearing that fond smile again, and he resumed rubbing Matthew’s stomach. The warmth of his hand was reassuring and distracting at the same time. Splayed out, his fingers moved tantalisingly close to where Matthew was now thinking about them going, to the top of his trousers.
> ‘You want me to?’ came the offer. ‘Matthew? Want me to touch you?’
Matthew threw an arm about Jonah’s neck and dragged his head down for an inelegant kiss. It was easier, somehow, than articulating his requests.
‘Alright,’ Jonah murmured against his mouth. ‘Alright now. I’ve got you.’ And his hand moved the precious couple of inches Matthew needed it to, heat and heaviness settling upon him.
Matthew’s pelvis left the mattress, primitive instinct pushing his hips upward against Jonah’s hand. In answer, Jonah cupped his palm more snugly over the clothed flesh and he allowed Matthew to use him a moment or two, let Matthew seek friction against his hand. Matthew sought out Jonah’s mouth again when he felt the fastenings on his trousers being loosened. The action was as much to hide his blush as it was to enjoy that luscious mouth again.
The first touch of Jonah’s strong fingers against him made Matthew’s eyes squeeze shut. He could feel himself swelling in Jonah’s grip, Jonah’s light stroking encouraging his flesh to lengthen. Against his mouth, Jonah breathed and licked at the seam of his lips, the point of his tongue tickling the left corner before sweeping inside once more. Matthew was aware of his erection seeping a little lubrication, and he felt as well as heard Jonah moan softly into his mouth.
‘Open your eyes, Matthew.’
Matthew looked up directly into Jonah’s gaze. The hand inside his trousers gripped him tighter, the rustling sound of Matthew’s clothes being disturbed by the movement seeming loud to his ears.
‘Undo me,’ Jonah told him, voice husking out at a deeper than usual register.
Was it the most terrifying thing anyone had ever asked of him? Even if it were, Matthew was determined to find his courage and respond. His hands fumbled in his eagerness, his mind stuttering when he accidentally brushed against the undeniable bulge of Jonah’s erection. He stumbled over a hapless “sorry”, but Jonah was chuckling quietly and Matthew forgot how words were even supposed to be formed when he found himself touching heated, rock-hard flesh.
‘Here. Here.’ Jonah let go Matthew’s cock long enough to put his hand over Matthew’s, squeezing and showing Matthew how tightly he wished to be held. Then he eased his body closer still to Matthew, pushing his hardness into Matthew’s hand, and put his own hand back on Matthew’s dick, resuming his strokes as Matthew began his explorations.
Familiar only with his own flesh, Matthew was fascinated to be allowed such intimacy with another. He loved the silken texture of Jonah’s cock, its strong jut and pleasing weight, the bevelled tip sliding over the pad of his thumb as he rubbed. In curiosity, he pushed his hand deeper and cupped the cooler flesh of Jonah’s scrotum, feeling the delicate sac tighten as Jonah’s breathing deepened.
‘Fuck, Matthew,’ Jonah hissed out, twisting his wrist a certain way that made Matthew gasp.
For a few minutes, the two of them were lost in their caresses, lying close together and legs uncomfortably entwined as they stroked and tugged at one another’s bodies. Then Jonah suddenly moved, shifting a little further up the bed, forcing Matthew’s hand to a different angle. After just a couple more strokes, Jonah stilled and closed his eyes. Matthew felt wet warmth falling on their hands and upon his stomach. He realised belatedly why Jonah had moved up the bed a way—it was to avoid spilling on Matthew’s trousers when he came off.
Matthew ground the back of his head into the pillow, his entire body feeling overwound, and let his own ecstasy come. Jonah’s fingers flexed as Matthew spilled over them, and Jonah’s lips pressed against Matthew’s cheek again.
Oh …
When higher brain function returned, Matthew was unsurprised to open his eyes to that fond smile Jonah had brought with him that night. Matthew took a deep breath, his chest expanding with more than mere air.
‘We should’ve thought ahead,’ Jonah said. ‘Put a towel or something by the bed before we started.’ Matthew must have been giving him a confused look for he explained, ‘For cleaning ourselves up with.’
‘Oh. Um, I’ll just get—’
‘No, no,’ Jonah interrupted. ‘You stay where ya are. Most of it’s on you. I’ll get us something.’
As Jonah extricated himself from Matthew and got off the bed, Matthew raised his head from the pillow and looked down. Jonah was right, of course. Most of their emissions were indeed upon Matthew. But which was his own and which was from Jonah, he honestly had no idea. Bizarrely, he found he rather liked that thought.
Jonah returned to bed with a towel from Matthew’s washstand. He wiped at himself swiftly and handed the towel to Matthew, his usual lopsided grin back in place. Matthew cleaned the mess off himself as thoroughly as he could, given the circumstances, vaguely conscious of the sound of boots thunking onto the wooden floor one after the other. When he set the towel aside and looked at Jonah, he was a little surprised to see him easing the last of his clothes down his legs and completely off.
‘You’re, you’re staying?’
Jonah stood up straighter and looked down at him. ‘I reckon we can get away with another hour or so.’ His expression seemed to fall by several degrees suddenly. ‘What? If you don’t want me to, I can go—’
‘No!’ Matthew hastened to assure him. ‘Not at all! I’m happy for you to stay. More than happy, in fact. I just … I wasn’t sure that would be on offer.’
Briefly, that fond smile flashed back across Jonah’s features and he ducked his head a little, as though suddenly shy. When he glanced back up at Matthew, it was through his eyelashes as his head was tilted down still. Matthew swallowed.
‘So,’ Matthew started, trying to keep the hopefulness and relief out of his voice, ‘another hour?’
‘At least,’ Jonah reiterated. ‘Maybe a little longer, eh? I’ll be out well before the currawongs start up.’ He raised one knee onto the edge of the bed as he spoke, but paused when he caught Matthew’s blatant stare. It was almost as though they’d both only just realised that Jonah was now completely naked. Jonah took his knee off the edge of the mattress and lowered his foot back to the floor. He held Matthew’s gaze boldly as he squared his shoulders and stood straighter, unashamed and stunning to behold, just letting Matthew look, letting Matthew drink his fill of him.
‘I never answered you before,’ Matthew said, voice somewhat wrecked. ‘When you asked if I liked what I was seeing.’
‘I was being a bit rhetorical,’ Jonah admitted. ‘Didn’t really need an answer. Not with the way you was eating me up with yer eyes.’
Matthew huffed a tiny laugh and glanced away, only to have his gaze dragged back to Jonah’s nakedness almost immediately. ‘You’re beautiful, Jonah.’
Jonah clambered onto the bed and flopped down heavily beside Matthew, all pale-gold flesh and easy smiles. ‘Away with ya,’ he scolded playfully. ‘I’m a scarred up copper with calluses and a ginger beard, and I’m full of bruises from grave digging most of the day. Beautiful, my arse!’
‘I’m sure that’s beautiful too, but as you’re lying on it right now, I can’t confirm.’ Matthew could hardly believe his own boldness with the comeback, but it was worth it for Jonah’s laughter.
‘How’s about we get the rest of your kit off?’ Jonah sat up and reached for the laces of Matthew’s boots, obviously not intending to await a response before starting on said kit-removal. He was gentle but efficient, and Matthew knew then that he was being made love to by an experienced lover. When the last of Matthew’s clothes were dispensed with, they both got under the blankets. Matthew lay on his back, Jonah on his side facing him, again propped on one elbow.
‘So,’ Jonah began, tone conversational. ‘You’re a shirt lifter.’
Matthew stopped looking at the ceiling and turned his head to look at him. ‘Do I need to point out the gross hypocrisy of that statement right now?’
Jonah smirked at the implied accusation. ‘You know what I mean. You’re a bloke who likes other blokes.’
‘You mean to say you’re not?’ Matthew also turned on
his side, the two of them facing each other at close quarters. ‘Even after what we just did?’
Jonah shrugged as much as was possible, lying in such a position. ‘Never really thought too much about it.’
‘You like women?’ Matthew saw the ridiculousness of the question, even as he voiced it. ‘I mean, of course you do. I’ve seen you with women. I know you enjoy their company.’
Jonah smirked again. ‘Often as I can,’ he said, with a wink.
‘So you’ve never …?’
‘Never?’ Jonah prompted.
Matthew exhaled as he chose his words. ‘Looked at another man?’
‘Once or twice, maybe,’ Jonah replied without much hesitation. ‘Well. Actually, I’ve looked more than that. If I’m being completely honest.’ He paused, as though rifling through a dozen memories and taking account. ‘There’s been, I dunno, maybe two or three blokes over the years? That made me think about it, I mean. A few more than that had me just noticing ‘em, maybe. It was one of those things that I thought I’d maybe get around to trying one day, see what it was like. But I never met anyone I’d wanna take the risk on. So, that’s all it’s ever been, just some looking. The occasional thinking.’ He stopped leaning on his elbow and instead rested his bent arm on the pillow and lay his head on the bulge of his bicep. ‘You?’
Matthew fidgeted with the top edge of the blanket. ‘I’ve always tried my best, my absolute best, to keep such things as far from my conscious thoughts as I could manage,’ he said softly. He sighed. ‘There was one friend in my early seminary years … we didn’t dare ever touch each other … but nonetheless, it didn’t end well. He left the calling.’ He paused. Matthew had never spoken of those events to another living soul. It felt strangely liberating to finally say such things out loud, talking about himself with honesty, safe in the knowledge that there was no danger in doing so. ‘I’ve never allowed myself to lose such control as this, Jonah,’ he continued. ‘Never let things advance so far. Never … fell to such an extent as this. Never allowed my thoughts to get to such a place as they could be acted upon.’
By the Currawong's Call Page 9