Barging In

by Josephine Myles

  His curiosity piqued, Robin made his way to the bed cabin. Everything looked the same, but when he pulled back the quilt, he saw that the bed had been made up with new sheets, the creases from the packet still visible. He ran his hands over the deep blue brushed cotton, admiring the quality. He’d grown up with expensive bed linen and knew this was a world away from his old set of cheap, supermarket bedding, which had worn into scratchy bobbles around his feet. He’d been meaning to get down to the launderette earlier but had allowed himself to get absorbed by his woodcarving, and the day had run away from him before he’d realised.

  What did all this domesticity mean? Robin didn’t want to read too much into it, but it didn’t seem like the actions of a heartless slut only after a quick shag. Then again, maybe the meal and the fresh sheets were as much about Dan looking after his own creature comforts as they were about Robin’s. He shook his head. It wasn’t like it mattered. They had a few days together and then it would end. Best just to enjoy it while he could.

  And a good meal, a couple of beers and some hot, sweaty sex to christen the new sheets sounded like the perfect way to spend his evening… So God knew why he still felt twisted up inside.

  Dan woke from a dream about trying to outrun an earthquake to discover his bed really was shaking. The groan of the earth ripping apart was the deafening roar of the engine which sounded like it was slap-bang under his pillow. He could smell diesel and there was a definite draught coming in from the ventilation shaft in the wall above his head.

  Dan rubbed his bleary eyes, sat up and tried to make sense of the boat’s rocking. A loud thudding sounded right above his head. He cringed, but it was only Robin’s footsteps on the roof. As the engine’s noise changed pitch, the boat rocked some more, and the queasy sensation in his stomach told him they were on the move. He pulled out the blind in the porthole next to him and watched the reeds drifting past.

  Jesus Christ, it was too early for this. A dim memory surfaced of agreeing to cruise somewhere even more deserted—Robin had never mentioned anything about it being at the crack of dawn, though. Shivering in the cold, Dan staggered across the tiny hallway to the wet-room, located his watch and saw that it was quarter past six in the morning. Bloody early risers and their antisocial ways. He much preferred the way Robin had woken him the last couple of mornings, fondling and kissing him into awareness before ravishing him. Robin fucked like he’d been starved of sex for an eternity and wanted to gorge himself on Dan, over and over. It was thrilling—Dan could get used to that ravenous gaze boring into him, promising he was about to be eaten alive.

  He looked down at his chest and saw evidence of Robin’s hunger written on his flesh in red marks. Just looking at them heated his blood. Funny, he’d never found that sort of thing appealing before—had always thought it rather spoilt the unblemished look he was going for. Now, though, seeing the effect they had on Robin—the way the guy just about exploded with lust when tearing off Dan’s clothing to expose the bites before adding some more—well, maybe he was kinkier than he’d realised.

  Or maybe it was just something about Robin.

  The thought was unsettling, and between that and the wandering around naked in the cold, he managed to stave off his morning wood. Dan went in search of his clothing, discarded in the saloon the previous night. He really needed to bring over a few more changes of clothes from his boat, since it didn’t look like he’d be sleeping there for the rest of the week. He found his jeans and T-shirt neatly folded next to a set of red, ribbed thermal undies. There was a small piece of paper on top, with “Come outside—U can were these—its cold” printed on it in an uneven hand. Grinning to himself, Dan stood in front of the crackling fire—Robin really had thought of everything—and suited up.

  The long johns were a little too lengthy in the leg and the thermal vest was baggier than Dan’s usual, skintight attire, but when he lifted his arm and inhaled, the fabric exuded a delicious, Robiny smell—all smoke and maleness. It felt as if he were wrapped in a warm hug, the sensation remaining even with the rest of his clothing over the top. Once he’d shrugged on his leather jacket and donned his trainers, he felt brave enough to open the front doors.

  Frigid air washed in over him, stinging his eyes and making him gasp. But the canal! There had been a frost overnight, and all the grass and dead stems along the banks sparkled like they’d been dusted with glitter. The water steamed slowly, mist rising in lazy curls that hung diaphanous in the damp air. Dan looked out over the valley, a sea of mist with the tops of trees rising out here and there like islands. He popped his head up to wave at Robin—who appeared to be wearing some kind of knitted monstrosity on his head—and ducked back inside for his camera.

  Half an hour later, Robin had turned the boat in the nearest winding hole so that they were heading towards Bath, and most of the mist had evaporated in the morning sun. Dan’s fingertips and ears smarted with cold. He realised the dull throbbing at his temples was a caffeine-withdrawal headache coming on. Who would have believed he’d be up this early, working, without the aid of his morning cuppa? Maybe if you spent long enough on a boat, these early nights and mornings just became natural. He waved to catch Robin’s attention and made a T shape with his hands—receiving a thumbs-up—and headed in to make them both a drink.

  It was only once he had the two steaming mugs of tea in his hands that he realised he had absolutely no idea how he was going to get one of them to Robin. Maybe he could persuade him to pull over so that he could run along the bank and drop one off with him. Stepping up onto the front deck and placing the mugs on the roof, Dan pondered his options. He couldn’t yell—Robin was fifty feet away, and the engine was deafening down at that end of the boat. Dan looked at the gunwales—the narrow shelves that ran along each side of the boat where the hull met the top. They were about four inches wide and looked alarmingly slippery in their glossy black paint.

  He’d seen Robin walk along them without any qualms, but could he do it? Could he make his way to the back of the boat, clinging one-handed onto the narrow wooden rail at the edge of the roof? Above all that water? No, that wouldn’t work. The roof was another possible route, but it was piled high with logs, sacks of coal, coils of rope and, bizarrely enough, a wheelbarrow. The idea of scrambling over a frosty obstacle course on the top of a moving boat did not appeal. Not with a plunge into icy-cold water as the penalty for any misstep. He still found it hard to believe it was shallow enough for him to stand up in.

  Robin beckoned, then pointed insistently towards something on the roof. Dan held his hands out in a “What?” gesture, then looked down the side of the boat to where Robin was now pointing. Of course, there were the two side hatches down at the far end of the boat; the ones in the passageway that divided the wet-room and bed cabin. Okay, he’d be almost there if he could open one of them. Maybe he wouldn’t have to risk life and limb scrambling around outside at all.

  The passageway flooded with light as he opened the hatch, and the view was spectacular. Dan climbed the steep stepladder and carefully lifted the full mugs up onto the roof of the boat. When he finally stuck his head out and caught Robin’s warm grin directed his way, he realised how close he was to his goal.

  Close, but not close enough.

  “Come on, then. You’ll have to bring it to me,” Robin shouted over the drone of the engine.

  That was easy for him to say, but how the hell was Dan going to do it? There was about ten feet of gunwale left to inch along. He looked up again, about to protest, but when he saw the teasing glint in Robin’s eyes, he rebelled against his fear. There was no way he was going to let a man in a bobble hat with ear flaps laugh at him. Especially not when it was a bright orange one with pom-poms on the end of the ties.

  The first step was the hardest as he had to simultaneously twist his body so he faced the boat, leaning against the side and gripping on to the pallet stacked with logs. Rough splinters scratched at his palms. As his racing heart began to slow, he eased his grip,
gaining confidence in his secure footing. He’d be fine so long as he didn’t look down at the water. He looked at Robin instead, surprised to see the mischief had been replaced by concern.

  “You okay?” Robin asked.

  Dan gave him a nod. Yeah, he could move his head, no problem. It was the rest of his body that was going to prove difficult, especially as his stomach was doing its best to convince him that he was plummeting from a great height. He took a deep breath and let go of the pallet completely, transferring his right hand to the rail while his left scooted the mugs along the roof. As soon as both hands were on the rail again, he attempted a shuffling step sideways, moving like a decrepit crab. Why the fuck wasn’t he wearing a life jacket? Hadn’t the hire company told him he should? Mind you, a life jacket wouldn’t be much help if the shock of being swallowed up by freezing water stopped his heart beating. He wondered if Robin knew any first aid.

  “Dan? Just keep moving. You’re nearly here.”

  Dan lifted his gaze, grateful for the distraction of Robin’s face. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching those handsome features. He pushed the mugs along and took another step sideways. There were lines of concern on Robin’s brow, but his gaze locked onto Dan, pulling him inexorably closer.

  Just two more steps.

  Just one.

  And then it was done. Dan’s foot found the relatively wide expanse of the back deck, and Robin’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in close for a hug. He let himself fall against Robin, his bones liquefied by the ordeal. Even with the tiller arm intruding between them, he felt more comfortable than he would ever have imagined possible. Dan nuzzled into Robin’s neck, breathing in deeply to try to find his scent. It was there, hiding beneath the diesel fumes, and as he breathed in Robin’s unique smell, he felt safe, even though he was still standing on a tiny platform over the water.

  Robin’s bristles grazed against the side of his head.

  “Your ears are freezing. You okay?” Robin’s voice rumbled through him, the vibrations rivalling those of the engine below them.

  Dan nodded again, raising his head to prove it with a weak smile. “They don’t feel cold. They feel like they’re on fire.”

  Robin chuckled softly, his breath burning Dan’s cheek. “You went white for a minute there. Thought I was gonna have to rescue you.”

  “Are you saying my tan needs a top-up?” It was a pathetic effort at humour, but Robin grinned, squeezing him closer. His gaze flicked between Dan and the route ahead, and the arm that wasn’t around Dan’s waist rested on the tiller, making small adjustments to their course.

  “You’re shivering. Here, have this.” Before he could protest, Dan felt the warmth of the knitted hat descending on his head.

  “God, no! The thermal undies are bad enough. You’re trying to turn me into one of you lot, aren’t you?”

  Robin chuckled, loosening his grip around Dan’s waist. Any sense of disappointment was swept away when Dan felt a hand insinuating itself down the back of his jeans. A hand with icy fingertips. He squirmed and squeaked in protest but felt strangely bereft when it withdrew.

  “Glad to see you put them on. Can’t have you messing about on the river in your flimsy city clothes. I’ll help you peel them off later, shall I?” Robin’s smile went a lot further towards heating Dan up than the hat had managed. “Now, since you went to all that trouble, how about tea?”

  By now it wasn’t nearly as hot as Dan would have liked, but Robin gulped his down with enthusiasm.

  Dan watched the canal coming to life around them. Once they’d negotiated the swing bridge—Dan instructed by Robin to hop off the boat and open it—they entered the busy stretch down at Bathampton. Already stovepipes were smoking and hatches flung open. He saw a lanky, dreadlocked man in a ratty dressing gown step off the deck of a small tug painted in red, gold and green. He knew that boat—had spent an hour or so trying to coax a smile out of its owner for the photographs. Aranya gave them a quizzical stare and a half wave before dumping his tray of smouldering embers into the hedgerow and turning his back to them. Dan felt snubbed but then noticed the cloud of steam rising and realised why. Jesus, some of these people were so primitive.

  “Robin? My boat’s coming up. Would you mind stopping so I can grab some more clothes?”

  Robin smiled warmly again, and even though his hand was now back on the tiller rather than around Dan, it still felt like they were connected. Dan’s stomach did a little flip. Funny, he’d never felt anything quite like that before. Must be hunger. Maybe he should grab something to eat off his boat as well.

  In the end there weren’t any spaces left to moor up. Robin brought Serendipity to a gentle stop alongside Faerie Queen and held the boats together with a foot on each deck.

  “You’d better be quick. We’re blocking the canal.”

  Dan threw the rest of his clothing into his shoulder bag, along with a couple of packets of crisps and a chocolate bar—not a balanced meal, but it was all he had onboard. He caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror as he left. “What the fuck are you doing, Dan?” he asked his reflection, pulling the ridiculous hat off his head and putting it into the bag. He wasn’t sure if he meant the hat or the whole situation with Robin. He wasn’t even sure if he cared, and stuck his tongue out at his reflection as recklessness rushed through him in a giddy stampede.

  When he returned to the deck, Robin held out a hand to pull him back onboard. Dan hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to spend the rest of the journey on that tiny deck? There wasn’t even a safety railing. Then again, the only other option was to spend it on his own down on the front deck.

  He looked doubtfully at Robin.

  “Come on. I want to teach you how to steer. You need to learn how to cruise properly.”

  Dan pouted and stuck out his hip. “Baby, there ain’t nothing you can teach me about cruising.”

  Robin stared blankly for a moment, and Dan worried that he’d overdone the camp. He felt a surge of relief as Robin broke into surprised laughter, saying, “Get your arse over here, now!”

  “Aye, aye, Skipper.”

  Dan saluted as he hopped onto the back deck, then stepped up onto the small shelf that hung over the noisy engine room. As he did so, he felt Robin’s hand squeeze his arse.

  “Cheeky tart,” Robin murmured into his ear.

  Dan grinned and did his best to concentrate on Robin’s patient instructions as they negotiated the twists and turns the canal made through the Bathampton flood plain. He clearly wasn’t the most attentive pupil, however, as Robin had to keep his hand on the tiller as well. What he was most aware of was the warmth of Robin’s body so close to his, and the way Robin’s breath tickled his ears as he spoke.

  With the sun on his face and the world waking up around them, it was just about the closest Dan had ever felt to perfect happiness.

  He wasn’t going to ask himself what that meant.

  They closed the lock gate behind the boat, taking opposite sides of the canal. Robin pushed slowly, not wanting to show up Dan, who was obviously putting all his strength into his side, judging by the colour in his cheeks and his laboured breathing. It was the sixth lock they’d tackled in an hour and a half, and Dan looked exhausted. He’d been quiet for the last three locks—a sharp contrast to his initial enthusiasm at watching the water rush out through the sluice gates and snapping pictures of Serendipity slowly moving down as the water level dropped inside the narrow channel.

  As soon as the gates were fully closed, Robin walked over the top of the lock. Dan was standing, slumped back against the heavy oak balance beam, and Robin hopped up on it to sit next to him. The height of the beam put his knees at Dan’s shoulder level, and Robin put out a hand to stroke the exposed flesh of Dan’s neck. The muscles were knotted up with tension, and Robin began to massage without really considering what he was doing.

  “Mmm…don’t stop. Feels good.”

  A dog barked. Robin snapped his head around. Ju
st a woman walking her terrier along the opposite bank, but he realised how exposed they were. This last lock was right in the city centre and although the screens of trees and walls gave an illusion of privacy, it was still a public area.

  But then again, what did he care what people thought of him? They already had him down as an illiterate, scumbag gypsy with designs on their property, so why not prove just how depraved he really was?

  Robin lifted his leg and scooted over so he was seated with Dan between his thighs. There, much easier to give him a proper massage now. He dug his fingertips into the knots and worked them loose, glad to be able to do something to help Dan that didn’t involve having to talk.

  Dan gave a happy moan, his head lolling as Robin worked wider circles with his hands, sweeping his thumbs up either side of Dan’s spine and stroking firmly across his shoulders and down again. It would be easier without the T-shirt in the way. Maybe later he could treat Dan to a proper back massage.

  “That’s good. Where’d you learn to do that so well?” Dan asked, his head still lolling and his eyes closed against the sun as Robin’s strokes eased into feathery touches.

  “Mel taught me. She’s a qualified masseuse. It works better with oil, though.” Robin gazed down at the top of Dan’s head and stilled his hands. There was a whorl of hair on Dan’s crown that drew his attention. The hairs shone gold and copper in the weak sun, and he had this powerful urge to lean down and kiss him there. Before he could, Dan’s head dropped back and rested against his thigh. Robin’s gaze wandered over the freckles dusting Dan’s cheeks and nose, the crescents of those eyelashes and the curve of those lips. Why on earth had he ever considered Dan plain? The man was beautiful.