By the Currawong's Call

by Welton B. Marsland

  Jonah regarded him silently a while and then, quietly, he breathed out one word. ‘Likewise.’

  Matthew didn’t know if there was a word or term for what they did next.

  It felt right that Jonah should move closer and roll on top of him as they kissed, chests pressing together and limbs sliding effortlessly around one another. The weight of Jonah upon him didn’t feel like a burden. On the contrary, that body weight felt precious and welcome, exciting to be beneath. The delicious slide of naked flesh on naked flesh made all Matthew’s senses come alive and he deepened the kiss himself, taking control from below and making Jonah grunt against his mouth.

  Jonah liked looking at him, Matthew soon realised. Between kisses, while catching his breath, Jonah would always open his eyes to look down at him, to look at his mouth and his eyes, to smile at him before dipping in for more. It was confronting, Jonah’s gaze boring into him during such intimacy, rendering them both more naked than their mere absence of clothes had done.

  Jonah reached one hand between them and pulled at both their newly rising erections, pressed both dicks together in his large grasp and stroked them in tandem. Then he let go and planted both hands firmly on the mattress and started rocking his hips against Matthew’s. He rained kisses on Matthew’s throat and shoulder, dipped his head further and licked his chest. Beneath him, Matthew arched his back, pushing his upper body up to meet Jonah’s mouth. The scratch of beard across a nipple was maddening, but then Jonah’s lips followed and Matthew very nearly swore. He’d had no idea that such an action could feel as it did. Jonah raised his head again, chuckling softly, clearly pleased with himself, and worked one arm beneath Matthew’s neck and shoulders, holding Matthew all the closer to him. A rhythm found them out of nowhere.

  Trapped between their stomachs, their slick cocks rubbed against one another and the friction was—oh dear, God forgive him, but it was heavenly. Matthew hooked one leg over Jonah’s and wrapped his arms firmly about Jonah’s shoulders. They were so close to each other, so wrapped in one another, so beautifully matched. Matthew buried his face into the side of Jonah’s throat, tasting sweat there and sighing into it.

  ‘Just tell me,’ Jonah spoke, and Matthew felt the vibrations of each syllable against his mouth, ‘if I’m being too gentle with ya. Used to being with girls.’

  ‘And how would I know what “too gentle” even feels like?’ Matthew responded.

  ‘Huh. Fair point.’ Jonah put a bit more into his next thrust and the bed creaked beneath them. They shared a quiet laugh about that until their mouths found each other again.

  ***

  Watching Jonah dressing himself an hour later was almost as intriguing as watching him undress. Matthew lay in the middle of the rumpled bed, enjoying the show every bit as much as he had earlier. Jonah, dressed only from the waist down, pulling on his long black boots—good gracious. Jonah’s long, deft fingers manipulating buttons on his union suit, shirt and finally tunic, all done without even a glance down, for Jonah could barely tear his gaze away from Matthew, apparently.

  ‘Kneel up,’ Jonah told him when he was fully dressed once more. ‘Give us a kiss before I go.’

  Matthew obeyed, shuffling on his knees to the edge of the bed, so as to wrap his arms around Jonah’s waist. The woollen jacket felt coarse against his chest and the buttons were cold. Jonah put a hand to Matthew’s chin and tilted his face up, kissed him hard and heartfelt, then pulled away. Matthew couldn’t miss the heavy, appreciative look Jonah cast upon him, kneeling naked on the bed as he was.

  ‘Fuckin’ hell,’ Jonah murmured, giving a slow shake of his head. ‘What’ve we got ourselves into, eh? Pillars of the bloody community and look at us! A right pair.’

  ‘But we’re going to do it again. Right?’

  ‘You bet yer godly arse, we are!’ Jonah’s grin was huge, amusement and satisfaction and delight practically radiating off him in waves.

  ‘How soon, do you think?’ asked Matthew. ‘When do we risk it again?’

  ‘Probably shouldn’t do two nights in a row …’

  ‘No, probably not.’

  ‘Saturday night, then?’

  ‘Well, at least that means we’ll miss April Fool’s Day.’

  Jonah shrugged. ‘We are a couple of fools though, aren’t we?’

  ‘Saturday, then,’ said Matthew, ignoring the playful accusation.

  ‘I’ll try to get here a bit earlier than I did tonight.’ Jonah winked at him. ‘Seeing as how you’ll have work in the mornin’.’ He walked to the bedroom door, but paused there, half-turning back towards Matthew. ‘Just tell me one thing.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Matthew. ‘What?’

  ‘Was it the uniform?’

  Matthew briefly considered lobbing a pillow at him as he left, laughing.

  ***

  The Campbell sisters’ store was bustling when Matthew entered the next morning to purchase milk and some eggs. Mrs Llewellyn was in town for her weekly shop. The blacksmith’s apprentice was buying tobacco. Miss Price and Miss Daly were having a loud debate about who was the finest milliner in Melbourne. And Jonah was there, picking up his mail.

  A split-second of terror washed over Matthew as he first realised, as he saw the uniform among the other people present. They hadn’t discussed this—what to do outside of their tryst, how to act around others, how to respond to one another in the presence of onlookers. What should he do? What should he say? Did Jonah’s shoulders just tense ever so slightly? Should he even be looking at Jonah’s shoulders when other folks were about?

  ‘Good morning, Father!’ called Fiona Campbell, giving him a wave over Mrs Llewellyn’s head.

  He needed to remember how to walk. And talk. Preferably in a normal manner.

  ‘Good morning,’ he managed, voice sounding relatively even. He advanced into the store, returning the other greetings that came his way.

  ‘Father,’ drawled Jonah, receiving a small stack of envelopes from Anne. Infuriatingly, he seemed to be the very epitome of calm and cool. A professional skill, perhaps.

  ‘Sergeant,’ Matthew replied. He could do this! He could swap pleasantries and be on his way.

  ‘Haven’t had yer company at the Vic in many a Friday,’ said Jonah. The devil.

  Matthew glanced sideways at him. ‘I … well. No. I haven’t been. Lent, you know.’

  Jonah casually flipped through his mail. ‘You should again. Everyone misses ya.’ He looked up quickly and gave Matthew a smile. A regular, friendly smile that didn’t say anything about kissing or undressing or cock-stroking.

  ‘I’ll consider it,’ said Matthew. Because, really, what else could he say?

  Jonah nodded and gave him that little salute he sometimes did, straight index finger tapping his temple as though to the rim of his helmet, though that was tucked into the crook of his elbow. ‘See ya later, then.’ And, to the Campbell sisters, ‘Always a pleasure, ladies!’

  Matthew resolutely fixed his gaze to the counter as Jonah turned to leave the store.

  ‘Ooh, Father,’ exclaimed Anne in a concerned tone. ‘You look sore!’

  Matthew frowned in confusion. ‘Do I?’ He raised a hand to his face on instinct.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘You’re all up in a rash,’ said Anne.

  ‘If it’s the eczema,’ Fiona put in, ‘we sell an unguent for that.’

  From the door, there came a dull thudding sound that may have been a helmet dropping to the floor, but Matthew was determined not to look.

  ***

  Friday evening came and went without Matthew amassing the emotional fortitude required to drink companionably in the Vic with Jonah, in front of half the town. Saturday, he spent calling on parishioners and preparing the church and his sermon notes for Sunday. Saturday evening, he needed a splash of whisky in his tea by seven o’clock, such was his rising anticipation.

  Around nine pm, the rear door of the rectory opened. Jonah had said on Thursday night that he would
arrive at an earlier hour come Saturday, but the face that appeared around the door did not immediately fit the mental image Matthew had of his friend.

  ‘My God, you’ve shaved your beard off!’

  ‘Don’t think I’ve ever heard you blaspheme before.’ Jonah stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind him.

  ‘That’s because I try not to blaspheme,’ said Matthew. ‘Or swear. But dear God, Jonah, you’ve shaved your bloody beard off!’

  The lopsidedness of Jonah’s smile was all the more pronounced, now it was no longer partially covered. ‘Well, I couldn’t have people making comments about your whisker-rash all over town now, could I? Yeah, I shaved the fucking thing off!’

  ‘Is that what that was?’ Matthew poked at his own face, where redness had persisted for most of Friday. ‘Whisker-rash?’

  ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’ Jonah looked sheepish for a moment, before breaking into another smile. A smile that absolutely said things about kissing and undressing and cock-stroking.

  ‘Hm,’ said Matthew.

  ‘What?’

  Matthew took a few steps forward. ‘And I thought your mouth was already sinfully lovely …’

  Jonah’s eyes blazed. ‘If I hear one “boyish” comment out of ya, I swear I’ll grow the bloody thing back!’

  ‘Even though it grows in ginger?’

  ‘Even though it grows in ginger. I’m serious. Now quit yer flirting and kiss me.’

  They made it into the bedroom quicker than the previous time, the whole walking-while-kissing thing an easier task the second time around. Matthew lit a candle he’d set on the washstand and made sure there were towels. Jonah didn’t let him out of his arms long, though, reaching a hand to the topmost button of Matthew’s cassock but then pausing.

  ‘That’s a lot of bloody buttons.’

  ‘Thirty-nine,’ Matthew confirmed. ‘One for each of the Holy Articles.’

  Jonah’s brows rose. ‘Is that right?’ Again, he reached for the first button, and again he paused. ‘Does that mean it’d be sacrilege for me to undo them, then?’

  Matthew smiled. ‘I suppose it would depend on your intent in undoing them.’

  ‘Well, my intent’s certainly not innocent.’ Jonah grinned at him and began unfastening. ‘Father Swan didn’t wear his all the time,’ he remarked conversationally, almost as though he wasn’t currently engaged in undressing a vicar.

  ‘Many Anglican clergy are choosing not to now.’ Matthew found he could reply equally conversationally. Wonderment.

  ‘But not you?’

  ‘I rather like the armour of it,’ Matthew admitted. ‘Do you feel anything similar for your uniform?’

  Jonah shrugged briefly. ‘Never really thought of it like that. Rules say we hafta wear ours all the time anyhow.’

  When Jonah helped Matthew out of the cassock he paused once more, looking at the garment. ‘Do ya …’ He offered it up slightly. ‘Do ya need to do anything? Kiss it or something?’

  Matthew took it from him and casually draped it over the back of a chair. ‘It’s not a vestment.’

  Fingers stroked the back of his neck. Jonah was searching out the studs that held his collar. ‘I barely know the first thing about all this. Church and all.’

  Matthew stood still while Jonah continued undressing him. ‘Your family were not religious?’

  ‘Not especially.’ Collar and collar studs were set carefully on top of the dresser. ‘Ma’s family hadn’t been all that happy about her marrying Pa. Quakers, yeah? So the two of ‘em had sort’ve stepped aside from religion. If that makes sense. Ma was … a very modern woman.’

  ‘Oh? And the Church has no modern place?’

  ‘I’m not trying to offend ya.’ Jonah smiled shyly. Matthew began on the sturdy buttons of the police tunic. ‘Does it offend you?’ Jonah continued. ‘Me being not much for religion? Not coming to yer services?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Matthew put the tunic over the top of his cassock on the back of the chair. ‘Everyone must make their peace with the world in the manner that nurtures them best. If religion is not that manner for you, it would be a hollow gesture for you to force it.’ He unfastened Jonah’s shirt and freed his arms from it. ‘Mimicry of faith is no better than its absence.’

  ‘Yer a rather modern thinker yourself.’

  Matthew laughed softly. ‘On that, you stand in agreement with several theologians I have known.’

  ‘I gotta say.’ Jonah trailed his hands down Matthew’s torso, coming to rest at the fastenings of his trousers. ‘Having a discussion on the nature of faith while I’m undressin’ ya, and undressin’ ya with intent at that, this is a new one on me. I can add it to the list.’

  ‘What list?’ Matthew unbuckled Jonah’s gun holster and dropped the revolver and the billy-club onto the dresser with a thunk.

  ‘My list of indiscretions and recent criminal activities.’ Jonah met Matthew’s gaze for a moment before returning his attention to getting them both naked. ‘I was thinking about it while I was choppin’ firewood this morning. How I’ve really gone and done it now—I’ve had a bloke. Both of us willing, at least, so there’s no outrage on that count. But still. It’s outrage enough on its own, isn’t it? And with a priest, no less!’

  When all their clothes were finally dispensed with, they fell to the bed together, Jonah’s hands stroking over Matthew’s arms and chest, his mouth pressing kisses wherever he could, tugging on an earlobe with his teeth. ‘All through work,’ he said against his ear, ‘I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about ya, Matthew. Thinkin’ about what we’d done, what we’d do next time. Tonight.’

  ‘You’re in a chatty mood,’ Matthew observed, making him laugh.

  ‘Sorry. But yeah, guess I am.’ He stroked down Matthew’s side, over the bump of his hip and along his thigh and back again. ‘Feels like I’m full of words right now. Wanna say ‘em all to ya. Wanna tell ya what I couldn’t get out of me head.’

  ‘Tell me, then.’

  Jonah pushed himself up and straddled over Matthew’s body, bringing his hands to rest lightly on Matthew’s chest. He gazed down at him. ‘I like having my dick sucked on,’ he said without preamble. ‘I’d bet most blokes do. But I hadn’t thought … I’ve never thought about being on the other end of it. Being the giving one, if you follow me.’ Slowly, he moved his right hand up towards Matthew’s throat, running the pad of his thumb along the collarbone, dipping into the hollow beneath. ‘But once the idea came to me, it’s been a bitch of a thing to try and not think about. I don’t know what it might mean for me though. What sort of man that would make me. Noticing a good-looking bloke or three over the years is one thing, but wanting to drop to my knees in front of ya and offer my mouth for a fucking, well, that’s quite another.’

  Matthew inhaled sharply at Jonah’s words.

  ‘But when I look at ya, Matthew, when I see you all spread out like this and smilin’ up at me, lookin’ like some sort of angel crashed to Earth …’ He swallowed. ‘My mouth waters.’

  Dear Lord.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Matthew murmured.

  ‘Say yes. Say you’ll lemme give it a go.’

  As if it were possible for Matthew to say anything otherwise.

  He’d heard talk of the activity once, being spoken of in brash tones by two young men taking shelter in the doorway of his Camberwell church for a smoke during a rainstorm. They hadn’t realised anyone was on the other side of the door at the time, and their brashness perhaps indicated that they may not have cared anyhow. Scandalised but intrigued, Matthew had been unable to spurn the mental images the overheard discussion created for him. In his mind, a man took him thus. No specific man, no one he actually knew. Just a generic image of masculine beauty—wide shoulders, large hands, stubbled jaw—finding pleasure in him.

  The fantasy snuffed out like a candle flame as Jonah Parks gave him reality.

  He could not endure it. He’d be surprised if he even made it to a full minute of Jonah’s
attention. The physical sensation was overpowering on its own, but when he lifted his head from the pillows and looked …

  He didn’t even have time to warn Jonah of what was about to happen. He made a clumsy attempt to swat him away but only succeeded in knocking Jonah on the nose. Ecstasy rolled over him like the ocean and all Matthew could do was stroke spasming fingers against Jonah’s face and repeat “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” over and over again.

  ‘You whacked me in the snout, ya bastard!’

  Jonah was laughing, cheeks a little flushed and with Matthew’s seed upon his mouth and chin, but his eyes glittered and his voice hitched on an amused note and Matthew wanted desperately to kiss him.

  ‘It was merely a knock,’ Matthew countered. ‘I was trying to warn you of—’

  Jonah crushed their mouths together, still laughing but kissing now also. Matthew wondered, amazed at just how easy it all seemed between them. And how he now knew what his own prick tasted like. He kissed Jonah back and reached a hand towards reciprocating the pleasure.

  ‘When did you first know?’ Jonah asked afterwards, when they were lazing on the bed. ‘About yourself, I mean.’ He drew on his cigarette and blew out a fine blue trail of smoke. ‘Liking blokes?’

  Matthew leaned his head against Jonah’s shoulder, watching the smoke in the candlelight. ‘The winter I turned fourteen.’ From outside, there came the sound of rain beginning to fall. ‘I was feeling very grown-up. And I went into the city, on my own, to visit the State Library. Grand building.’

  Jonah motioned for Matthew to move closer and draped his arm lightly around Matthew’s upper body when he did so.

  Matthew pressed his cheek to Jonah’s chest, trying to put his mind back to a time he hadn’t given thought to for many years. ‘My birthday is June twenty-fourth. The same as Saint John the Baptist.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be named John, then?’