“Heilyn, are you in here?” It was Emyr’s voice which was surprising because he never ventured into the hostel, but Heilyn was so close to finishing that nothing could distract him. He just grunted a little and focused on touching up the shadows on the sails.
“The wind turned and the Colomen sailed early,” Emyr said, his voice drawing nearer, “so I brought you lunch from the inn and I thought… Oh. Oh.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” said Arianell, one of the volunteers. “Have you not seen it before, Emyr? I’d have thought you’d be here all the time. Heilyn, sweetheart, your man’s here for you.”
“Ssh,” Heilyn said, sliding along to frown at the edges of the inn roof. “I’m almost done.”
“For the day?” Emyr asked, his voice still filled with a soft wonder. “It’s early for you.”
“No!” Heilyn snapped. “I’m almost done!”
“Oh,” Emyr breathed.
Arianell giggled and said, “Leave the artist to his work, Emyr. I’ll give you a tour while we’re waiting for him to finish up. It really is wonderful, what he’s done.”
Their footsteps faded, and Heilyn lost himself in the work again. There was a particular kind of urgency that came with the end of a long project, one which quivered through him and drove him onward with a growing sense of anticipation. Soon, soon, it would be done, and he stopped thinking about what he was doing and trusted instinct to guide his hand in the last few strokes.
The very final detail was his name, touched in along the curving side of a cloud in the topmost corner. That done, he put his brush and palette down carefully and sat back to look at his work. Done. He was done.
It felt a little like a dream, wonderful and rather hollow all at once. What in the world was he supposed to do now?
Turning round, he saw Emyr standing in the middle of the room with his hands clasped behind his back. He was facing away from Heilyn, gazing quietly at the walls. As Heilyn stood there, overwhelmed by joy and loss, he turned around slowly, taking a few steps forward to look at some detail.
“Emyr.”
It came out a little plaintive, and Emyr finished his circle in a few swift steps, turning to face him. His lean face looked softer than usual, and his eyes were bright.
“I’ve finished,” Heilyn admitted.
“And it’s wonderful,” Emyr said. The corners of his mouth were relaxing slowly, and his eyes were crinkled at the corners. “I listened to you talk about it, but I never imagined… It’s beautiful, Heilyn.”
“Beautiful?” Heilyn echoed, and the shock of finishing began to give way to triumph, great swooping waves of it.
Emyr’s lips were curving up now, an unexpected dimple suddenly appearing in his cheek. “It’s going to make people happy.” He grabbed Heilyn’s hand, pulling him along the wall. “Look at Llinos in the market there—she’s here every winter with her arthritis, and she’ll love it. And there’s Dilys, and you put her cats in with her! Heilyn!”
But Heilyn couldn’t move. His breath was all caught in his throat and he couldn’t stop staring, not at the art, but at Emyr.
“You’re staring at me. Did I say something wrong?”
“You’re smiling,” Heilyn choked out.
It was the best smile he’d ever seen. Emyr’s face was transformed, no longer melancholy but round-cheeked and flushed, with that dimple dipping in beside his mouth and his eyes brighter than any shade of blue that Heilyn could dream of painting.
“Am I?” Emyr didn’t stop, and his hand tightened around Heilyn’s, tugging him closer. “Really? It must be your fault.”
Then his arm was around Heilyn’s waist, and his hand was in Heilyn’s hair, tipping his head up, and his mouth was on Heilyn’s, kissing him warmly. Heilyn could feel the smile under his lips, and then Emyr’s tongue was teasing its way into his mouth, hot and demanding.
“Emyr, would you like a scone while you’re wait—oh!”
Heilyn heard Arianell dissolve into giggles and rush away, and it was just enough to make him pull back, though his lips felt cold at once. “We probably shouldn’t do this here.”
He got a kiss nuzzled against his neck, and Emyr chuckled softly and murmured, “Home?”
Heilyn almost fell over twice on the way across the common, just because he couldn’t stop staring at Emyr’s face. The third time he tripped, Emyr caught him, his arm warm and steady around Heilyn’s waist, and his hand firm on his hip. “Careful.” Then his smile sharpened slightly, going hungry at the edges, and he leaned down to kiss Heilyn again. This time it had intent: a slow, thoughtful exploration of Heilyn’s mouth that left his head swimming and his knees weak.
He let Emyr tug him over the common after that, his mind still caught up with the echoes of it. He could still feel the print of Emyr’s mouth against his, and he wet his lips, hoping to catch a taste of Emyr. He was beginning to wonder how much he had underestimated the man. He had forgotten, in all his plots for seduction, that Emyr had not just had a serious lover before, but had been handfasted, which was the next thing to marriage. He must have had far more sex in his life than Heilyn, with his collection of one-offs, had even contemplated. There was, in fact, a pretty good chance that Emyr was an expert.
He was so caught up in the anticipation and anxiety that provoked that he nearly fell into the next stream they had to cross.
“There’s a plank,” Emyr said, and that quiet amusement which always flavored his voice was warm and obvious now. “It would be wise to use it.”
“Somebody distracted me,” Heilyn complained, tightening his grip on Emyr’s hand. “Where are we?”
“Short cut.”
“There’s a short cut? Why have I been walking home through the village every day then?”
Emyr’s smile dimmed a little. “I thought you liked walking with me.”
“Oh,” Heilyn said and pulled Emyr close enough to kiss his hand. “I do, yes. Don’t mind me. I’m just wittering. Nothing to complain about really.”
Emyr’s smile brightened and he pulled Heilyn through a gap in the hedge and out onto the back road, between Pumpkin’s field and the house. The wind was tumbling off the sea in quick gusts and the air was full of shining starflower petals. First to flower, last to fall, always, and it meant that winter was almost here.
In the derwen copse, Emyr stopped again. The petals covered the ground like snow here, and fell through the air with a soft sigh like rain, catching in his hair and the folds of his cape. Heilyn’s fingers itched for a paintbrush: watercolor and the finest lines of silver to capture the subtle wonder of Emyr smiling amongst the falling flowers.
Emyr reached for him, lacing his fingers through Heilyn’s hair and dislodging more petals. “For luck, this time.” This kiss was almost reverent, his hands cradling Heilyn’s head as he touched his lips so very lightly to Heilyn’s cheek, his jaw, and his mouth, where he lingered tenderly. Heilyn closed his eyes, letting the imagined picture slide away, and felt the kiss instead, letting it shiver through him until his toes curled.
“Come into the house with me,” Emyr murmured warmly against his mouth. “Please.”
Chapter 7
HEILYN WASN'T going to wait for a second invitation. Seizing Emyr’s hand, he took the lead this time, tugging him through the woods and across the garden. The moment the kitchen door swung shut behind them, closing out the cold, Emyr pressed against him again. He slipped his hands under Heilyn’s jacket, tugging at the buttons on his shirt, and Heilyn yelped and squirmed.
“You’re cold!”
“Sorry.” Emyr pulled his hands back, and Heilyn reacted with thinking, pressing his own hands over them.
“I didn’t say stop.” It came out breathy and rough, and Emyr’s eyes widened. He kissed Heilyn again, his hands busy, and within moments Heilyn’s jacket was gone, and then his shirt and vest, and it was his bare back that was pressing against the polished wood of the door. He yelped at the cold again, lunging forward to wrap himself around Emyr’s warm body
, and Emyr chuckled into his ear, and ran a gentle hand down his spine.
“Sorry.”
“Take me to bed,” Heilyn demanded. He’d wanted it to sound like a mock order, but instead it came out needy and desperate. He had been longing for Emyr’s touch so long that every part of him was alive to it, the hairs raised on his arms and his pulse beating hot and hard.
“You know the way.” Emyr pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder and another to the side of his neck before he stepped back, his hand lingering on Heilyn’s hip. “Go on, before I convince myself that the table is warm enough.”
“Oh,” Heilyn said happily, “we can do that later.” Then he made for the stairs. He’d gone three steps before Emyr’s hands were curving across his ass and he was stopped for another lingering kiss.
Emyr’s shirt fell in the kitchen doorway, and Heilyn’s belt hit the floor halfway down the hall. His trousers went sliding between the banisters halfway up the stairs, and he had to cling to the rail and gulp when Emyr kissed his way down his chest, teasing his nipples to peaks with slow licks and nibbles and then sliding to his knees on the stairs. He rubbed his cheek against the soft cloth of Heilyn’s braies, and Heilyn’s cock leapt at the touch. He was so hard, his balls tight and his breath coming faster and faster with every press of Emyr’s hands (hands which were inside his braies now, kneading his ass and sliding tentatively down his crack).
“Heilyn,” Emyr sighed, kissing him softly through his braies.
“Uh-uh.” He was trembling, shaking in anticipation from his lips to his toes. He’d never trembled for a man before.
“If you want to do this in a bed…”
“Uh.”
“..run,” Emyr finished softly, sliding apart the knot that closed Heilyn’s braies.
He ran, the last of his clothes falling off him as he moved. By the time he made it across the threshold of Emyr’s room, he was naked, and Emyr’s arm was closing around his waist, and he was being tossed down onto Emyr’s crumpled sheets. Emyr’s mouth descended on his, and Emyr’s body pressed him down, and Heilyn simply wound his arms around Emyr’s neck and groaned into his mouth. He needed this, needed so much to be touched–touched by Emyr, beautiful, sad Emyr with his lonely eyes and, oh, wicked hands. He rocked his hips up hard, rubbing his cock against Emyr’s lean thigh in relief that he could finally let the pleasure build and build towards a hot—
“Oh, no,” Emyr gasped, and rolled off him. “Not so fast.”
Heilyn let out a wordless protest and lunged after him, but Emyr pressed him back against the pillows, his hands firm on Heilyn’s shoulders.
“Emyr!”
Emyr kissed him, slow and hungry, his hand stroking down Heilyn’s body, tweaking his nipples and caressing his cock. The kiss made Heilyn forget what he had been complaining about, and he just sank back against the pillows, rocking up into Emyr’s hand.
“That’s better,” Emyr murmured and moved, pulling his hand away. Heilyn let out a grunt of protest, and then opened his eyes as Emyr kissed down his body again. Emyr had moved round, and his hips were close enough to Heilyn’s face that he could see Emyr’s cock straining out hard. It was as long and lean as Emyr himself, pink-tipped and damp, and Heilyn had to touch, wrapping his fingers around that beautiful hard heat with a happy sigh.
Emyr’s mouth shook against Heilyn’s thigh, his tongue suddenly clumsy. “Oh. Please, Heilyn!”
“Move your leg,” Heilyn managed, tugging at Emyr’s thigh. “Over me. Yes, there.” He pulled Emyr’s hips down, and opened his mouth to suck in the tip of Emyr’s cock.
“H-heilyn!” It was a real whimper, and Heilyn smiled triumphantly around his lovely mouthful and sucked him in further. He loved doing this. It was so good to feel a man shake and fall apart under his mouth, and when that man was Emyr, his lovely Emyr, it was better still. He let his eyes fall closed, savoring the weight on his tongue and the hint of salt.
He wasn’t ready to feel wet heat wrapped around his own cock, and cried out around Emyr, his hips jerking. Suddenly, he couldn’t think properly. He could only rock into Emyr’s mouth and suck hard around his lovely stiff mouthful. There was heat gathering under his skin, and light blossoming under his eyelids, and all he could do was gasp roughly around Emyr and sob a little when Emyr’s tongue slid up his shaft.
When Emyr pulled out of his mouth, the loss almost hurt, and when Emyr gave his cock a last sly kiss and pulled off there as well, he shouted in protest.
“Soon,” Emyr gasped, and his fingers were between Heilyn’s legs now, teasing slickly at his hole. “May I?”
Heilyn spread his legs so fast he almost strained something. He couldn’t manage words, but he could put a note of begging into his whimper and push himself down onto Emyr’s fingers.
“Look at you,” Emyr breathed. His fingers were busy now, first one and then another slipping in to stretch Heilyn open. It felt so good, and his cock throbbed in response. He was going to come, before Emyr had even gotten inside him, and he wanted to, but he wanted this to last forever too, and the conflicting needs made him writhe his hips and groan.
“Not yet, lover,” Emyr said and clamped his fingers around the base of Heilyn’s cock. “Hold it back for me, yes?”
“Yes!” Heilyn managed, and tried to think of anything other than this man and this bed: the smell of congealed paint; the evil glint in Pumpkin’s eye; the rush and rage of the storm tearing in (and, oh, that one didn’t help at all, because his body felt just as torn and helpless now, a different type of storm sweeping over him, threatening him with destruction and glory).
Emyr’s fingers were sliding out, and there was the warm nudge of his cock pressing in, slow and gentle even as Heilyn opened his eyes to see Emyr’s hands fisting the sheets beside his head. He turned enough to kiss Emyr’s wrist, lifting his hips to meet that first thrust. It felt as if the world was being scraped clean, like an old canvas, and would be transformed into something a thousand times more bold and bright and beautiful. Everything was so sharp and clear right now, with the storm suddenly blossoming into sunlight inside him, and he could see the sweat on Emyr’s brow, the graze on his own knee, pushed up this high, and the flush over Emyr’s cheekbones, all with the same lucid wonder.
Then Emyr moved within him, and everything shattered into light and beauty. His eyes closed, and he managed to raise one hand to Emyr’s sweat-slicked back, while the other slid down to cup his own cock, not even touching himself, just the last pressure he needed to move against. Emyr rocked into him, a pillar of heat that filled Heilyn, overwhelming his vision with images of clay, dark as Emyr’s hair, and molten glass, as bright and clear as Emyr’s eyes.
Emyr shifted slightly, and now he was pounding straight into Heilyn’s sweet spot, and all he could see was color, swirling like the sea, as his body gathered and clenched, his cock spurting as he came and came, wailing Emyr’s name.
He knew that Emyr was still moving in him, but all he could do was cling and sigh until Emyr tensed and shuddered against him. They sank down against each other, untangling their legs until Emyr’s face was buried against Heilyn’s shoulder and their knees were brushing together. After a moment, Emyr’s arms went around Heilyn’s waist, so tightly it almost hurt, and Heilyn hugged him in return, unwilling to let him go.
For a while, they just lay together, the sweat cooling on their skin. Heilyn could only tell that Emyr was even awake by the way he was slowly stroking Heilyn’s back.
Just as Heilyn was starting to get cold and remember that it was almost winter, Emyr stirred a little and said, his voice bewildered, “I think I left your lunch in the shrine.”
For some reason that struck Heilyn as being hilarious, and he muffled his laughter against Emyr’s hair, until Emyr wriggled up enough to demand indignantly, “Are you laughing at me?”
“You laugh at me all the time,” Heilyn pointed out and kissed Emyr’s pouting mouth. “You’re amazing, in case you didn’t know.”
He felt Emyr’s
smile blossom under his lips again before he pulled back to say, “You too. Heilyn…” He stopped there, looking frustrated. “I can’t think of anything good enough to say.”
“Say it with kisses, then.” Heilyn grabbed the blankets and pulled them up around their shoulders, before he cuddled in and lifted his face. “Go on.”
“Ridiculous,” Emyr said fondly and kissed him lightly, which led to more touches and many more kisses, and the sky was dimming before the growling of Heilyn’s stomach finally forced them out of bed.
He got to the inn in time to do the breakfast washing up the next morning, and sang over the dishes despite all Elin’s teasing. He couldn’t ever remember being quite so happy.
He spent the afternoon back at the shrine, helping varnish over the paintings, and refused to take any further payment for it. Arianell and the other girls laughed at him even more than Elin did, but it was kind laughter, and they all seemed almost as pleased as he was to see Emyr happy. He went home through the village that night. Emyr smiled at him as he came in the office door and so Heilyn stole kisses from him all the way down the coast road.
After that, once the work at the shrine was finally finished, he went back to collecting sketches of the island. There was a quiet subdued elegance to the morning mists and brown lines of the winter fields. The short days limited what he could see, but he drew from memory as he sat at Emyr’s table each evening, and went to bed early.
There was a little part of him, though, that felt restless. Every time he saw a ship coming in, he paused to watch the sails bellying before the winter wind, and that restless part of him made him wonder what was on the next island. It frightened him to think how hard it would be to leave now. It was going to break his heart to kiss Emyr goodbye.
Or, of course, he could stay.
That was almost more frightening. He had left his home and family without a care in the world. Why should a man he had only known for a few months make him want to curl his toes into the dirt? There were islands yet unseen, and a whole world beyond. There was nothing special about Sirig either: it wasn’t the loveliest island he had ever seen, nor was there much work for a artist here, though the skyscape was unmatched, of course, and he liked the people, friendly and easygoing as they were.
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