Angels Among Us

by C. E. Barrett

  Daffyd turned and smiled at them, pleased he had been party to Seren's enjoyment. “My pleasure, ladies,” he said, smiling his odd little smile. Seren beamed back at him, still trying to catch her breath. Her giggles subsided somewhat when she saw the deep sadness in his eyes, behind the smile. This wasn't the time or place to talk with him, but she resolved not to let it go much longer.

  He stood abruptly. “It's about time I tended to poor Dammit,” he said. “She's due for her evening milking, I think.”

  Seren spoke up from her sprawl, “Can I have another shot at it?”

  “If you like,” he said.

  “I'll pass, guys,” said Reznik. “I'll just track down Rap, and see what mischief he's up to.”

  “He's down in the basement, I believe,” Daffyd told her, as he headed that way with Seren trailing behind. Reznik joined the little convoy, and left them at the bottom of the cellar stairs. Seren and Daffyd used the tunnel to the barn, closing doors behind them as they went. Daffyd went outside to drive the cow back to the barn, while Seren fetched the milk pail and stool. With Dammit ensconced in her stall, Seren put the bucket in place, and settled herself on the low seat. She looked up at Daffyd, who was resting a hand on the cow's hip.

  “Just stay close, okay?” she said to him. “You never know when I might need you.”

  “I'll be right here,” he told her, rather hoping she would need his help. However, she was rewarded with a stream of milk on her second attempt. She continued for a few minutes, but her hands began to cramp. She stopped and gazed at him.

  “Your turn,” she said brightly, and relinquished her spot. She watched him fill the bucket, his hands moving steadily, with seeming lack of effort. “How do you do that?” she asked. “You make it look so damn easy.”

  He shrugged. “I don't know. Some things you just don't forget how to do, I suppose. My grandmother had about ten cows, and every summer I would spend a month or so at her farm, and guess what I did morning and night?” He spread his fingers and looked at his hands. “Old habits die hard, they say.” He stood up and collected the full pail from under the cow and took it into the storage room to pour it into a milk can. Seren followed.

  She wanted to talk to him, but didn't know how to start. She watched him empty the bucket, and put the lid on the can. She went into the barn and sat on a bale of straw while he took the pail outside to rinse at the trough. When he returned, and put the bucket back in the storeroom, she approached him. She touched his hand to get his attention, slipping her own into his, lacing their fingers together. He looked at her curiously, an eyebrow raised in question.

  “Daffyd, I want to ask you something important and I don't know where to start,” she said. “I mean, I know what I want to say, but I ... the words ... I can't.... “She sighed in frustration.

  He smiled. “Take your time, then. I'm not in a big hurry to go somewhere.” He squeezed her hand in gentle reassurance.

  She bit at her lip nervously. This could blow up on me so bad, she thought. But nobody should be as alone as you seem, Daffyd. Especially someone as sweet and wonderful as you.

  “Okay.” Deep breath. “You are possibly the kindest, nicest man I have ever known,” she paused for another deep breath. “But you seem so incredibly sad and lonely. It's just there in your eyes, and your smile, and it kills me to see it.” She reached with her free hand and touched his face. “Don't you have anyone, besides your family, who just loves you for you? Because you should.” She smiled a tender, wistful smile. “You should have friends who would fight just to spend an hour with you, for your humor, and warmth, and I don't know what all....”

  He shook his head. “Most people want to spend time with me for my money, and fame, and to be seen with the ‘Great Man, Himself'.” His smile was cynical, his eyes bleak.

  “Then they're fools,” she said. She stroked his beard with the backs of her fingers.

  “It doesn't matter,” he said. “I have my family. The rest is unimportant. Besides, I'm used to it by now.” He tried to wave it off as meaningless, as if her words weren't cutting his soul to the quick.

  “No one should ever have to be used to the loneliness I see in you,” she said. I know you're gay and everything, but maybe this will be all right, even from a woman. She lifted her face to kiss him.

  “Seren, don't,” he whispered, realizing her intent, but her lips touched his once, and again. “No,” he said when she pulled back a half-inch, his voice almost inaudible. He released her hand and raised both his to push her away, but somehow the intention and the action lost their connection. His arms went around her and pulled her closer. When her mouth pressed his again, and he felt her tongue tracing his lip, the control he had been exerting over his emotions collapsed suddenly and completely.

  He made a small sound of protest, almost a whimper, into her mouth, and succumbed to the embrace. He kissed her fiercely, tasting her tongue and her lips. He kissed her face, her jaw, her neck and back to her lips. His arms held her so tightly she could scarcely breathe, but hers were around him just as securely. The intensity of his response stunned her, but she returned his kisses with equal fervor. She rubbed her cheek against his beard, and felt a wetness on her face. She pulled back to look at him, and realized the tears she felt were his.

  His breathing was ragged and he fought for a shred of control. What am I doing? Seren, can you ever forgive me? I'm so sorry. He was suddenly aware of how closely Seren's body was pressed to his, and that she could not help but realize the extent of his arousal. He was embarrassed that she should see him like this, but she did not appear to be insulted or repelled in any way. He tried a more tender kiss, the first surge of passion now under a tighter rein.

  To his wonder and delight, she responded willingly. She wiped the tears from his cheeks. “It's quite all right, love,” she said softly. She toyed with the back of his neck. As he had surmised, she was well aware of his physical response to their passionate embrace. She knew what she would like to do next, she just wasn't sure how to go about suggesting it. He was caught in the same dilemma. They continued to hold each other and to exchange increasingly intimate kisses for a long moment.

  I can't do this much longer, he thought. Seren, I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life. Perhaps you should run now.

  Seren's thoughts were on a similar track, but had taken a more practical turn. I want you so much, Daffyd. Where can we go, though? The bedroom is too far away, I wouldn't make it that distance without tearing your clothes off ... where, where, where? Her eyes lit up, and she smiled at him mischievously.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, with mock suspicion.

  “I was just thinking that someone might have left a blanket or a quilt or something up in the hayloft.” She dimpled at him, her eyes dancing with desire and humor. “You want to come up there with me and look?” Another dimple appeared and vanished.

  He stared into her eyes, knowing what she meant, but not entirely believing it. Hadn't she told him she was a norm? Maybe she had told him a half-truth.

  “Well?” she asked. “Or would you rather just stay down here? Alone?”

  He shook his head. “I'd rather come up to the loft with you,” he said. She smiled, her eyes warm and inviting. She pulled out of the circle of his arms and went out to the ladder up to the loft. He followed her closely. In the front wall of the loft was a small window that looked out over the pasture. An old-fashioned quilt, neatly folded, was draped across one of the rails that kept people from falling into the mangers below. Seren and Daffyd exchanged an amused glance.

  “Near the window looks comfy,” she said, indicating the deepness of the loose hay there. He agreed with her, and they spread the blanket out. They looked at each other, suddenly awkward and embarrassed. She laughed quietly. “This is silly,” she said. “We're too old to be acting like teenagers, but that's how you make me feel.” She put her hands in his, and stepped close. “Kiss me, Daffyd.”

  He did, and the awk
wardness and embarrassment were replaced by longing and desire. They pulled apart long enough to help each other undress and then lay down on the blanket, bodies close, but not quite touching. Fingertips explored with long, light strokes. She brushed her lips across the hair on his chest and kissed his neck, nibbling and tasting him. He ran eager, gentle hands over her belly and breasts, caressing and teasing. They smiled into each other's eyes, and laughed softly, their kissing and touching playful and joyous.

  She pressed herself close against him, murmured her wanting into his ear. She pushed him over onto his back. She ran her hands down his chest and abdomen, onto his thighs. She stroked his erection with teasing fingers, before she straddled his hips and guided him into her. As she lowered herself onto him, she heard his sharp intake of breath, and felt him lift himself to meet her. She bent forward, her body touching his from hip to shoulder, her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Her hips rocked back and forth. He matched his movement to hers and the rhythm increased, intensified. She bit at his shoulder and neck with the pleasure and passion their union was causing her. Daffyd, you feel so wonderful, so good. She whimpered into his mouth as the first wave of climax swept through her. Her hips thrust down at him, bucked against his. His arms held her close.

  “Seren,” he whispered her name. She lifted her head far enough to gaze into his eyes, their bodies still moving together. He kissed her. “I can't hold back much longer,” he told her. She smiled.

  “Good,” she told him. “It's not fair that I have all the fun.” She closed her eyes and shuddered with another wave of intense sexual pleasure. Then she focused on his face again, and kissed him. “Go for it.”

  “But I'm inside you,” he said. “You want me to ... finish in you?”

  “Absolutely.” What an odd thing to ask, she thought. “Yes, love. Inside me. Always.”

  His eyes widened in stunned disbelief, and excitement. I'm dreaming or dead, he thought. This can't be happening. The pleasure certainly felt real enough as his own climax thundered through him. He thrust into her as deeply as he could, a cry of release and joy escaping his throat. As the orgasm subsided, he sank back beneath her, relaxing into the makeshift bed of hay. She slid off him and lay beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her arms around him. He held her, kissed her forehead, and thought, If this is a coma-induced hallucination, I think I'll just stay here for a while.

  He lifted her face to look into her eyes. “I have an answer to your question,” he said.

  “What question?” she asked dreamily.

  “The one you asked me downstairs; whether I have anyone who loves me just for me.” He brushed a tendril of hair away from her face. “The answer appears to be: ‘yes'.”

  She smiled and kissed his neck. “It does, doesn't it?” She snuggled closer. Sweet Daffyd, this feels so nice, so right. I love this with you. She ran an idle hand across his belly, trailing fingers through the light brown hair. “So much for the theory that men reach their sexual peak in their late teens or early twenties,” she said, smiling.

  He laughed. “I admit my recharge time was somewhat shorter back then. I could certainly give an encore performance a lot sooner. However, I will argue that the quality has improved.” He kissed her temple.

  “No argument here, Sweet Thing,” she said. “Of course, I have no idea what you were like forty years ago, but right now you're wonderful to make love with. Tell me this was not just a one-time thing. I'd be so disappointed.” I would, too. I think I love you, Daffyd, and it scares me to death. I don't ever remember feeling quite like this. Her tone was light, but he felt the fear behind her words.

  He turned his body toward her so he could comfortably put both arms around her. “I would never use you for sex, Seren. You're far too important to me. I will share my body, my mind, my soul, everything I am, with you, always.” He looked into her eyes. “What did you call this just now?”

  “Making love,” she said.

  He smiled; a slow, tender movement of his lips. “That's lovely,” he said. “It's exactly right for how this feels with you.” He kissed her lips. She melted into him.

  “I love kissing you,” she murmured into his mouth.

  “I just love you,” he said quietly. She pulled back and gazed into his eyes, not completely certain she had heard him correctly. He read the look on her face. “I love you, Seren,” he said, wanting her to know beyond all doubt, how he felt. He felt her stiffen in his arms. Please don't run. I won't hurt you. I'm not a monster, Seren. I just love you. Is that so terrible? He relaxed his embrace, in case she wanted to escape. He wouldn't fight her.

  “Don't let me go,” she whispered. “If you let me go, I'll run. I will. I know I will. But I don't really want to.” Her brief laughter had a shaky, frightened quality to it. “I want to stay here with you, but I'm so afraid, Daffyd.” The rigidity of her body had become trembling. His arms tightened again and he felt her hands clutching at his shoulders as she held herself tightly to him.

  “What are you so afraid of?” he asked her when the tremors had subsided and she had relaxed.

  She shook her head. “I don't know. Losing you, maybe. Loving someone again ... I don't know.” She kissed his chin, and then spent a minute trying to spit out the loose hair from his beard that she had picked up. She finally had to use her hand to get the single little strand off her tongue. They laughed together over the incident, and her fears receded further.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said when they had stopped chuckling.

  “Anything,” he replied.

  “This is kind of personal,” she hedged.

  “Seren, we're lying naked together. We've been as physically close as two human beings can be. In fact, I recall that we were still joined at the end of the act. I don't think we could get any more personal than that.” He looked at her with an amused expression.

  “You have a point,” she admitted. “And you just reminded me of something else I want to ask, so now I have two very personal questions for you.”

  “Then ask,” he said.

  “Okay, but I want to sit up first. I can't think when your lips are right here,” she kissed them. “It's too distracting.” He rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head and watched her settle herself cross-legged beside him. She sat with one hand resting on his abdomen. “All right. First, you told me earlier today that you were gay, am I right?”

  “Gay? What is ‘gay'?” he asked.

  “Oh. It's what we call men who don't fit society's sexual norm,” she explained. “Gay, queer, fag ... there's a hundred terms.”

  “We're called twists, twisted, freaks. As you said, a hundred things,” he told her. “I have to admit, ‘gay’ is certainly less hate-filled than some others I've heard.”

  “So, I didn't misunderstand, then,” she said. “You are gay, or whatever.”

  “Yes. I don't fit the normal standard. What's your question?” he asked.

  “What are you doing here with me?” She saw the flash of hurt in his eyes and hastened to reassure him. “I'm not objecting! I love that you are. I love being naked with you. I love making love with you. I'm just very confused.”

  “So am I,” he said slowly. “Before I answer that, I need to ask you to clarify something for me.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You did tell me that you're a norm ... I mean normal, sexually speaking.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I give your question back to you: how can you be here with me?” He freed one of his hands to cover hers where it was making mindless designs on his belly. They stared into each other's eyes for minutes. Seren ran their conversations through her head: the earlier one on the dock, and the current one. She started to laugh. Daffyd was also replaying their discourse, and shaking his head with a disbelieving chuckle deep in his chest.

  “Heteros are ‘normal’ in your world?” he asked.

  At the same moment, Seren was saying, “You're heterosexual, aren't you?” />
  “Yes,” they replied together, and laughed.

  Seren untangled her legs and lay on top of him, looking down into the laughing blue eyes. “You know,” she said. “If we had just been a little clearer in our communications, we could have avoided a lot of confusion.” She kissed him.

  “Yes. It never occurred to me that your world was so different from mine,” he said, nibbling at her neck.

  “Me neither,” she said. “I thought you were homosexual. Your whole manner, the way you were acting around me....”

  “I've spent fifty years perfecting that image, Seren. Just so I could fit into society's mold. It's very nice to be able to be me with you.” He took her face in his hands. “You're such a lovely woman.” He kissed her lightly. “Now, you had another question for me.”

  “Oh, yes.” She looked embarrassed. “When we were, uh ... no, when you were um.... “She sighed and laughed. “This is really hard to ask, okay?”

  He nodded, amused at her evident discomfort and the flush creeping up her cheeks.

  “I'll try this one more time.” She put her face in his neck for a moment to hide. Then she looked into his face again. “Why did you feel you had to ask if I wanted you to—what did you call it?—'finish’ inside me?”

  “Because women in my world don't like it when a man does that without permission,” he answered simply. “And most of the women I've been with haven't allowed it. It's probably been thirty years or so since the last time.”

  She stared at him, stunned. “Thirty years? You haven't, uh, gone all the way, so to speak, in thirty years?”

  “Around there,” he said, so matter-of-factly, she wanted to shake him.

  “That's awful!” she exclaimed. “How can you enjoy sex when you have to worry about pulling out just then? It's uncivilized!”

  He laughed at her reaction. He had often felt the same way; that sexual pleasure was for sharing, right to the very end, but he had respected his partners’ wishes. “That's just the way it is,” he said. “It's supposed to minimize the chances of making a baby. Speaking of which; aren't you concerned?”