by Malia Ulmus
He starts humming a simple tune that his father always sang when he was walking up here with him and keeps walking and despite his best intentions, his eyes keep going back to Manuel’s back. He sure has memorized every twitching muscle under that tight shirt. Just like he could exactly describe the swell of that butt if he closed his eyes. Or the way the long legs move, every step soft and delicate, like that of a cat. And when Manuel turns his head a bit because he’s looking at something at one of his sides, Raul sees the profile of his face. The unruly blond streaks framing it. And the pink spots on his cheeks. And then there’s a first drop of sweat slowly making its way down Manuel’s temple and Raul wants to close the gap between them and lick it off and damned, this is so wrong. He lets out an exasperated sigh, obviously too loud, because Manuel turns to face him questioningly.
”Want to take a break?”
Raul asks half because Manuel truly looks like he might need it – and half because he surely needs a moment himself.
”Yeah, sounds great.”
Raul signals for the dogs to stop in their way and sits down in the grass, Manuel following his example with slow, very careful movements. Raul doesn’t miss the way he’s gritting his teeth and wonders whether he’s really fit enough, but then there’s no going back now and they’re not putting up the tent here, that much is for sure.
They share another cigarette and have some water. They a bit about this and that, Manuel asks about how he became a shepherd and Raul explains a bit about his childhood. The way the mountains and their inhabitants work and how there really isn’t a choice when you grow up here. He tells him about his father and grandfather and their flock and their land and he revels in the way Manuel’s dark eyes are watching him throughout, wide awake, interested, curious.
When they get going again, he is behind Manuel and it doesn’t take long before he’s staring again. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. The words, heard many times at home and at church, start ringing in his ears like a chant and Raul wonders, for the first time realizing that it says all things. All. All includes everything. Does believing all things include believing in this?
***
The sweat on his forehead has nothing to do with the warmth of the sun if Manuel is being honest. The sun is nice and yes, summer is approaching quickly, but it’s far from being hot, certainly not for him who is used to the unbearable stickiness of city summers. But the pain in his back is all encompassing and it drives tears to his eyes and it makes him feel hot with exhaustion. No matter how hard he grits his teeth and how much he curls his hand into fists, he still thinks Raul can read him like an open book, the worry clearly written over the shepherd’s face whenever their eyes meet. Still, Manuel is glad they are doing the trip, because he would have hated to feel more like a burden to Raul than he does anyway.
Over the course of the day, he has become addicted to the sound of Raul’s voice. It started with childhood stories during their first break and then Raul told him things from his village and the people who live there afterwards and it was a nice distraction from the pain and made everything that little bit easier and more bearable.
They’re on their third break now, it’s way past noon, the afternoon already beginning to fade into evening and Raul has assured him it won’t be for much longer. Manuel prays that’s true, because he won’t last much longer. With his head on his knees, he is sitting across from the shepherd, listening to story about him almost losing some sheep during a tour. His face is so perfect, Manuel thinks and loses himself in the sight, a little bit more each second. Tan skin, framed by silky black hair, dark eyes that sparkle with life and cleverness and a glint of something akin sassiness. When Raul smiles, his whole face smiles, every line of it and the white teeth shine and his eyes glow more than they do anyway and it’s beautiful. But when he falls silent and pensive, cigarette casually attached to his full, red lips, he looks just as gorgeous.
Manuel is mesmerized and he feels happy and serene just from watching the other man. It’s new, overwhelming, probably more than he ever even felt around Carmen. And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world. The long forgotten words of a poem come back into his mind and suddenly, they’re no longer meaningless, boring school literature, they’re true in each and every aspect. As much as he tries to, and has to, deny it, he has fallen for Raul. Deep and hard.
When they continue their way, the sun has disappeared behind the mountains and the air is cooler now, making him shiver already. Raul has stopped walking behind him, changing to be next to him. Manuel is a bit sad that he stopped talking, because he misses the sound of his voice, his beloved distraction, that low rumble that sends tingling electric sensation through his body. The final miles stretch endlessly and take all his power, all his focus. He’s sure his own nails are digging into his hands hard enough to draw blood and there’s more than one moment where he wants to give up. As if he was reading his thoughts though, Raul is there every time Manuel thinks he has to give up. Each and every time, the shepherd senses it, hands him some water or pats his shoulder, mumbles something reassuringly. And then, Manuel once again on the verge of surrender, Raul points to a brown something in the distance.
”There it is, you made it.”
Maybe it’s the joy. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe the pain has made him lose his mind. Either way, when Manuel sees the hut, he cannot help the grin that spreads over his face. And he cannot help stopping and staring at Raul, feeling his eyes get teary from the relief that he actually made it. And he also cannot help that his hands reach out, as if they were guided by something else, something bigger than Manuel’s thoughts, reach out and cup Raul’s face and then he’s leaning in, closer and closer until their lips meet. It’s only the softest of touches, but it’s exactly that, a touch. A kiss. Between him and another man and it feels like everything he ever wanted is finally here.
Todo ardes si le aplicas la chispa adecuada...
Everything burns when you use the right spark...
Chapter 8
...Look how they shine for you
For once, Raul doesn’t think. With his eyelids fluttering closed, his hands come to rest on Manuel’s hips. He takes in everything, the musky scent, the incredible heat of the other’s body, the soft feeling of Manuel’s lips against his – and who would have thought that a man’s kiss could feel so soft? His heart is thundering, threatening to burst out of his ribcage when he slowly parts his lips. His brain still isn’t working and probably, if he were thinking, he couldn’t do any of this. But as it is, Raul’s lips are parted, against Manuel’s, and he hears Manuel breathe heavily. Then, the lips against reciprocate and open up, ever so slightly. It’s an unspoken invitation, a signal to take this further and Raul does, nails digging into the skin of Manuel’s hips.
He vaguely notices that he’s getting hard and that should probably alert him, but strangely, it doesn’t. Something about the feeling of Manuel being so close, his body heat radiating against Raul, his scent enveloping him, his hands still firm against his jaw, something about it is deeply, deeply comforting and serene. And Raul is drowning and shivering and incredibly content as he’s standing here, in the middle of nowhere and still so close to home. His tongue is licking into Manuel’s mouth carefully, tasting, savoring, memorizing and Manuel does the same. It’s a delicate play, touches still soft, feathery, almost accidental. And it’s highly addictive, making Raul wish that it would never ever end. He barely notices the low growl that escapes his lips.
***
He hears the little moan spilling from Raul’s mouth into their kiss and it makes his cock twitch, makes him jerk his hips forward. In Manuel’s head, everything is dizzy, thoughts are spinning mercilessly. Focusing on one thought at a time seems an impossible task right now, because he’s on overload from all the sensations around him. Raul smells so good, like fresh grass and hot skin and he feels hot against Manuel, even thou
gh their bodies aren’t quite touching yet. When Manuel’s fingers trace over Raul’s face, his stubble rasps against Manuel’s skin and it’s a new feeling, but also a very good one. It’s not a conscious decision, more a giving in to a craving he didn’t know he had, when Manuel lets their kiss deepen, picks up pace and intensity, turning their contact every bit more passionate.
A little whimper gets stuck in the back of his throat when Raul brings their hips closer. And in response, Manuel lets his fingers slide lower, tracing down Raul’s jaw and neck – until they get tangled in something cool. Manuel’s hands touch the necklace and he stills, every muscle going rigid. It’s only a split-second later that Raul follows his example, all movements stopped, all muscles tense. Their foreheads are still against each other but their mouths pull back, both of them panting softly.
Neither of them says a word, instead, Raul turns around and starts walking, taking the last meters to the hut. Manuel follows him quietly, tears prickling behind his eyes, regret flooding his veins, his body shaky with emotions.
”I have some Absinthe in there, up for a glass?”
Manuel nods, still facing the floor.
”Okay, why don’t you just sit down and wait for me here? I’ll get food for the dogs and then I’ll bring the bottle.”
Manuel does as he’s told, sitting down on the grass in front of the touch, staring into the now dark sky. There are all these myriads of stars, sparkling everywhere and the moon is almost full, casting a soft light on everything. Occasionally, he hears one of the sheep and from inside the hut, he hears Raul, clattering with things. He shivers as it’s cool now, much cooler than during the day. And maybe because he thinks he messed it up, broke things between them before they started. That kiss is probably going to kill everything. Maybe Raul will even send him away?
***
Raul flops down next to Manuel with a sigh, open bottle already in hand.
”Here you go.”
He holds it out and watches Manuel take a sip, his face lit by the moonlight. You’re so gorgeous, so incredibly gorgeous. Raul swallows hard and takes the bottle back, quick to take a generous swig himself, relishing the burn in his throat with closed eyes. I have to stop looking at him that way. He urges himself, eyes fixed into the starry sky now. He’s more than glad and thankful that Manuel stopped them before they did anything worse. And at the same time, he feels increasingly desperate, because that kiss certainly left something behind. There’s a burning need inside him now, a desire that’s not fading at all. And all his thoughts revolve around is how he wants to press the blond man into the grass and be all over him.
”I’m sorry.”
Manuel’s voice is a mere whisper and Raul feels his heart clench at the words. In the end, you only did what I was too afraid to do.
”Nothing happened.”
Raul declares, voice a little husky but firm enough to signal that they don’t need to discuss anything. At least, he hopes so. And after another round of liquor, he points into the sky and puts a hand on Manuel’s knee, not quite ready to let go of the other.
”Look, you see the three bright stars over there?”
He glances at Manuel and sees him nod, eyes slightly confused but curious in the dim moonlight.
”It’s the spring triangle, a point of orientation. When my grandfather was doing this, they still relied on these things to find their way.”
***
It’s back. The soothing rumble of Raul’s voice is back, telling him things about stars and life as it used to be and Manuel loves it. In all honesty, he isn’t listening very much. The sound of Raul’s voice is enough. And on his knee, there’s the burning touch of Raul’s hand, burning right through the fabric of his jeans. It’s tingling and unbearably hot and sending all these little lightning bolts through Manuel’s body – and he wouldn’t want to miss it at any price. He had been so scared that he broke everything and the simple acceptance from Raul, taking the kiss as what it was, a kiss out of a strange mood, no more, no less, it’s reassuring him and filling Manuel with relief. The bottle is passed back and forth along with the occasional cigarette and Raul explains him more about the stars, Manuel eventually listening more intently, nodding and understanding, amazed at the shepherd’s knowledge and fascinated by the legends surrounding some of the images in the sky. Deep down, he realizes that he will never look into a starry sky as he used to ever again. His perspective changed permanently.
When Raul gets up next to him with a small sigh, Manuel cannot help the feeling of disappointment that crosses his mind. Raul automatically extends a hand for him to hold onto and help him get up and he stumbles into the hut behind him, swaying slightly. Maybe it’s been a bit too much of alcohol? Inside the hut, they face a new problem, because there’s of course just one bed and a rather small one at that. Of course, Raul insists for Manuel to take it, but there’s no way that he uses his host’s bed and makes him sleep on the floor. They even get in a small argument about it, until Raul stops mid-sentence and eyes him, strange sparkle lighting up his look in the candle lit room.
”You know, after two nights in the same sleeping bag, this is ridiculous, right?”
Manuel’s jaw almost drops when the shepherd now strips to his boxers unceremoniously. He lets his jeans follow, belt hitting the floor with a thud and Raul wordlessly assists him with the shirt. He ushers Manuel under the blanket and Manuel props himself up on his side as good as he can to watch Raul get things ready for the night, padding across the dimly lit room to light a fire in the chimney. He blows out the candle on the way back to the bed and Manuel cannot take his eyes off of him, the play of light and shadow from the dancing flames making Raul look even more irresistible than usual.
Raul climbs into the bed next to him with a mumbled good night and of course they leave as much of a distinct gap between them as the narrow frame allows. But right before Manuel drifts away, the day’s exhaustion and the alcohol taking their toll, he feels a gentle hand running through his hair and soft lips press a peck to his own.
Chapter 9
…like I do
Raul sighs, savoring the taste of Manuel, a mix of saltiness and alcohol and then he rolls to his side, facing away from the fighter. Inside, he’s going completely tense, with his heart drumming insanely, every fiber hoping and praying that the other will curl around him. For a few seconds, he thinks it’s not happening and his heart is already aching with disappointment. But then a hand pushes under his head and another snakes around his waist and he feels Manuel move up against him completely. And even so they now have a blanket and are no longer confined to a sleeping bag, this is the closest, most intimate they’ve been around each other. In his neck, he feels the hot puffs of Manuel’s breath and his entire body is shivering, despite the heat of the flames and their bodies under the shared sheet. His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me. He gulps at the memory, flash of hot running through his veins.
Raul carefully puts a hand on top of Manuel’s, fingers lacing tentatively. There’s no mistaking this for a thing between friends. There’s no necessity whatsoever of them being so close. And Raul couldn’t care less. Maybe it’s the rest of the absinthe, slow to fade from his body. Or it’s the almost full moon. Or the exhaustion and the feeling of being drained. Most likely though, it’s Manuel. As simple as that. Manuel’s beauty and grace, the sweet taste of his lips, the gentle touch of his fingertips. The way he ended that kiss and stopped them from crossing lines that they probably shouldn’t be crossing. Stopped them from sinning. Raul is grateful that Manuel kissed him, for it was bliss. And he’s just as grateful Manuel broke the kiss on time, for Raul knows he isn’t ready to cross that line. Maybe he never will. And before he ever would, he’d have to talk about it to Manuel. Because he wants to be sure that they are on the same page, that they both know what vice they’re going to indulge in and that they are both ready to face whichever consequences that will have.
For now, he’s cont
ent with the memory of that one kiss, as sinful as it has been. He is more than sure that he will never forget a single second of it and that the taste of Manuel along with the image of his beautiful face in the moonlight will be imprinted in his heart forever. And Raul has this night to remember, too; the two of them sleeping together, touching from head to toe with their fingers laced. It’s good to know that he’s at least experienced these precious hours, got to share this intimacy; because Raul feels that if he dies now, he dies as a happy man. His eyelids flutter closed with another content sigh falling from his mouth. He’s somewhere between sleeping and waking, in a boneless and happy state of mind, when he hears Manuel’s voice behind him, whispering softly as if talking to himself.
”I love you, Raul… forgive me, but I love you.”
His body shivers and he desperately pretends to be asleep when soft lips press a feathery kiss to his neck. I have nothing to forgive you for.
***
I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close. The words are echoing in his head and he wishes they were true, wishes there were no problems in this love. But not only are there problems, there are barriers, boundaries, lines whatever things that cannot and should not be crossed. He sighs against Raul’s neck, the other’s chest moving so evenly that he’s more than sure he’s already drifted away. But sleep won’t find Manuel quite yet. It’s not the pain – that is about bearable, especially under the haze of liquor. What keeps him awake is what he’s holding in his arms, the most precious gift he’s ever been given. His guardian angel and savior. And he hates himself a little for feeling the way he does, for craving him the way he does. He is completely and utterly ashamed of the fact that he has to will his cock to stay soft. And he is horrified by his desire to roll his hips, to lean in and let his lips touch that golden skin, flames throwing dancing lights upon it. He is terrified of his hand being tempted to slide lower, towards the black boxer briefs that hold the one thing he yearns to touch and feel. And it’s wrong, oh, so wrong to feel this way.
