Chapter 2 #6
So much so that he dared to draw up his own shirt-hem and grant Drude what he had evidently hungered for from the moment this encounter had begun.
Slowly—achingly and deliciously so—Drude took Ephraim into his mouth.
Only when Ephraim pulled him in by the horn did he swallow him down in full.
The all-consuming heat surrounded him, soft and wet and relentless like the steady lapping of the tide against the shore, the waves building and building until finally the crest broke, and, with a moan into Hull’s mouth, Ephraim’s pearls spilled across Drude’s eager tongue, swallowed down to join the tide.
Ephraim returned to his senses to find himself thoroughly embraced before and behind in a cocoon of sinewy limbs and brawny bodies.
The first sensible thought to cut through the warm languid fog of his brain was the fear that entangling his legs with Hull’s would aggravate his beloved’s injury.
No sooner had the fear occurred to him, however, then Hull blithely and apparently painlessly tossed his legs over Ephraim’s to draw them even more snugly together.
Ephraim supposed that was proof enough that the ritual had done its work.
He felt honoured to have witnessed it. More than that, it was a relief to see his Hull well again and a marvel to behold all Drude had to offer him.
With his Hull embracing him from the front and Drude’s broad chest bracing him from behind, fae warmth surrounded him on all sides, and despite his worries Ephraim found the wherewithal to drift off into sweet slumber.
Ephraim awoke to pale daylight, the scent of butter melting over scones, and the soft clinking of a spoon in a teacup. He opened his eyes to find himself the sole sleeper still abed.
But he was far from alone.
Beside him on the bed sat Hull—upright, with a deep and healthy blue hue to his dappled-slate-grey countenance, and his left hand entwined with Ephraim’s.
His right hand had just finished stirring his teacup.
The end-table was drawn up before him and laden with the tea-tray piled high with breakfast; scones, honey, jams, black pudding, and toast.
Across the table, Drude sat in a chair that appeared too small for him by half but nonetheless he perched upon it with remarkable poise. The teacup and saucer he held likewise looked almost miniature in his grasp as he took a delicate sip.
Then, over the rim, his dark eyes caught Ephraim stirring from his slumber. A shy smile plucked at his beautiful mouth.
Hull turned over his shoulder to follow Drude’s gaze. His blue-black beard split into the grin Ephraim knew and loved well. Then he drew Ephraim’s hand to his lips to bestow a kiss upon his knuckles.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
Ephraim replied in kind, adding, “How do you feel?”
“Like a vernal river surging with the mountain’s icy melt,” Hull replied and kissed him again.
Ephraim had very little experience with vernal rivers or icy melts, but he inferred that Hull had a promising prognosis. “And your leg?”
“As if it had never broken.”
While this was precisely what Ephraim had hoped to hear, a certain sense of caution remained. “Pray don’t exert yourself until Miss Grytha has examined you.”
“I’ve already sent for her,” Hull reassured him. “She will arrive by nightfall.”
Thus relieved of his most pressing fears, Ephraim recalled that he had not yet acknowledged his guest. He hastened to correct his solecism. “Do forgive me—good morning to you, Mr Drude. I hope the day finds you well?”
Drude’s smile danced in his dark gaze. “Very much so. And you?”
Ephraim, who had not expected the question to be reversed upon him, took stock of himself.
The prior evening’s adventure had sent him off into the soundest sleep he’d known since Hull’s injury.
In consequence he had arisen extraordinarily well-rested.
Whatever fears that had emerged in the awkwardness of the morning after were dissipating further with every passing moment, encouraged by the quiet strength of both his dear Hull and their guest. All told, and much to his own surprise, he felt… “Quite well, thank you.”
Hull, meanwhile, had poured a third cup of tea and now proffered it to Ephraim alongside a buttered scone. Ephraim accepted both with gratitude.
“What hour is it?” he asked when he’d refreshed himself with a bite and a sip.
“Half-past ten o’clock,” Hull replied.
Ephraim, who hadn’t slept past eight in nigh-on thirty years, blinked. “By Jove.”
“You needed rest,” said Hull. “After all we put you through.”
“Hardly!” Ephraim scoffed. “You were perfect gentlemen, the both of you.”
It was difficult to tell, given his already-crimson complexion, but it seemed Drude blushed as he smiled into his teacup.
The remainder of breakfast did not occupy above a quarter-hour and passed far less awkwardly than Ephraim had feared it might.
Hull and Drude kept up light chatter between themselves and made efforts to draw Ephraim into their conversation besides, though he felt altogether unequal to the task.
Still, his halting replies were met with welcoming smiles.
He learnt more about shepherding, wool-carding, and weaving than he had ever imagined possible. As breakfast concluded, Drude stood.
“Forgive me for departing so suddenly,” he said. “My flock requires me.”
Ephraim assured him no apology was necessary and arose to show him out.
Much to his astonishment, Hull arose as well, striding forth on both legs without his crutch as if the bone had never broken.
The sight proved equal parts heartening and alarming.
As glad as he felt to see Hull move without pain, Ephraim feared a relapse if he should push himself too soon, and moreover he was very nervous about Hull going down the stair.
However, there was nothing in his power to prevent him, so he merely followed the two fae friends down, they chattering all the way and his heart in his throat with every thud of hoof against step.
His nerves were relieved of their strain only when Hull reached the office, where at least if his leg gave out he would fall merely from his own height rather than the full height of the stair.
Hull and Drude embraced as warmly in parting as they had in greeting. Ephraim thought it rude to stare, to watch, to behold so intimate a gesture, but nonetheless found it almost impossible to look away, compelled as he was through his own fascination.
These feelings were not dispelled when the embrace broke off and both fae turned to him with expectant looks.
Hull’s was warm, familiar, and easily weathered, though Ephraim blushed regardless.
Drude’s was equally warm and thrillingly unfamiliar.
Nonetheless Ephraim found (much to his own surprise) that he could read his look almost as easily as Hull’s.
Drude’s dark eyes held fathomless pools of admiration and yearning alike.
A glance which asked as plainly and far more becomingly than mere words, May I?
Ephraim, still not quite believing in the possibility of such an enquiry, nonetheless found the presence of mind to nod.
Drude reached him in a single stride. His immense hand caught Ephraim’s chin in a hold delicate enough to preserve a butterfly and tilted his face upward to meet the kiss that Drude bent to bestow upon him.
Ephraim’s pulse fluttered with all the joy of a bird whose cage had broken and who could now take wing to rejoin its brethren in the skies after decades of imprisonment.
For four decades he had not permitted himself to ponder the flights of fancy that had preoccupied him in his youth; of a wilder world where gentlemen might greet each other thus and part with overflowing affection, a world merely hinted at in his Classical studies, a world which owed more to Dionysos than to reason.
A world into which his dear Hull and now Drude wished to welcome him.
Drude had wrapped his arms around Ephraim’s shoulders in the course of their kiss, and when it ended, he remained thus enfolded, suffused with warmth and strength alike as Drude gazed down at him with an unaccountable fondness.
“Thank you for looking after Hull so well,” Drude said, much to Ephraim’s surprise. “It’s a relief to know he is in such worthy hands.”
Ephraim, whose hands had never been so charitably described, endeavoured to demur without giving insult to his guest.
Drude merely smiled. “I should like to look after you in return someday, if you are willing.”
“Oh!” said Ephraim. His mind struggled to make sense of the words even as his heart fluttered at the thought. “Well, I certainly would not be opposed.”
Drude’s laugh rumbled through Ephraim’s breast-bone. He released Ephraim from the embrace, though he did not withdraw entirely, keeping his warm palms on Ephraim’s shoulders as he gazed down at him. “You must both come visit soon, so I may return your hospitality.”
Hull’s eyes lit up at the notion. Rather than accept the invitation himself, however, he looked to Ephraim for the answer.
“Of course,” Ephraim replied, astonishing himself with his own confidence.
Privately, he felt that he had not shown Drude very good hospitality at all.
He’d been dashed awkward the evening prior and forced the man to arrange his own breakfast the morning after; a very poor showing overall.
He should like to serve him better in the future.
To that point, “You’re most welcome to join us again as well, at your leisure. ”
Drude appeared surprised but by no means displeased by the invitation. He bowed with remarkable grace.
As their guest crossed the threshold into the outer stair beyond, Hull called after him. “Give my regards to Ptarmigan!”
Drude’s throaty chuckle seemed to rumble through the floorboards. “I shall.”
The door shut upon him. Hoof-beats resounded down the stair. Then the bell over the outer door rang, and their guest vanished into the fog.
Hull swept up Ephraim’s hand to bestow another kiss upon his knuckles, then used this grasp to draw him into a celebratory embrace. Ephraim felt more than happy to acquiesce to this.
“So,” Hull said when the kiss had concluded, “what do you think of him?”
Most of what Ephraim thought of Drude proved difficult to put into words when he had spent the bulk of his life deliberately not noticing such things, much less speaking them aloud.
However, he felt he could safely say, “I find him an extraordinarily gregarious fellow, and I’m very glad to have had his assistance in this matter. I should like to know him better.”
Hull beamed and kissed him again.
It was a morning well worth celebrating. Hull was healed. Drude had proved a wonderful fellow and (far more astonishingly) seemed to enjoy Ephraim’s company in return. There remained, however, a disquieting notion that a thousand kisses couldn’t quell.
Ephraim summoned all his courage to give it voice. “I fear you suffered unnecessarily for some time when we had a ready solution to hand.”
“A minor sort of suffering, surely,” said Hull.
Ephraim held his gaze. “Would you consider it a minor sort of suffering if I had broken my leg?”
Hull blanched to a pale grey.
Ephraim felt he had made that point and didn’t need to belabour it. Instead, he gently suggested, “Perhaps in the future we might discuss difficult matters before they become imperative. Even if you believe they will shock me.”
“We shall,” Hull pledged with the assurance Ephraim knew well. But then an unfamiliar expression overtook his handsome features; belatedly, Ephraim realised he had very rarely beheld Hull appearing uncertain. “Forgive me, my fears overtook my better sense.”
“You feared I would judge your customs unfairly,” Ephraim concluded.
But Hull shook his head. “The first time I showed you my true form… you collapsed. I feared I’d killed you. And I dreaded revealing anything that might shock you again.”
“Oh,” said Ephraim. He hadn’t considered that.
In his defence he hadn’t been conscious to behold Hull’s fright in full.
Another man might feel insulted to have his lover keep things from him out of fear for his weak heart.
Dr Hitchingham certainly wouldn’t stand for it.
Ephraim supposed himself a different sort of man; one who felt strangely touched despite all the trouble this unnecessary caution had caused.
Still… “I’m sorry to have caused you undue alarm.
But now that I am aware that the fae realms exist and magic is possible, surely I’ve grown more hardy against surprise from that quarter? ”
A wistful smile overtook Hull’s worried face. “You certainly have.”
A rare ember of pride ignited beneath Ephraim’s breast-bone.
“I ought to have told you the truth in full long before now,” Hull continued. “But I shall be forthright with you from now on. Is there anything in particular you would like to know now?”
Ephraim considered for a moment. Nothing imperative or important came to mind. But a certain curiosity remained. “When you bid goodbye to Drude, you asked him to give your regards to Ptarmigan. Who is Ptarmigan?”
“His husband.”
These two words were very familiar to Ephraim separately.
But he had never in all his days heard them thus combined.
The implication dizzied him. He rallied, determined to prove to his Hull that he could withstand even the most fantastical truths of the fae realm.
He could not, however, prevent himself from echoing in wonder, “His husband?”
Hull merely nodded with the sweet smile that Ephraim loved so well. “Perhaps we might take them up on their invitation sooner rather than later?”
“Perhaps,” Ephraim murmured distractedly. His mind flew down wild paths of possibility. His heart had taken flight, and a queer courage now surged through his veins, enough so that he felt emboldened to give his answer in the fae fashion and drew his Hull down for another kiss.