by Con Riley
“Did you fix the bed?” Rob asked, pupils huge despite the kitchen’s bright light. Jude nodded. Rob took his hand and pulled, crowding him against the front door when Jude stopped to lock it. He said, “Come on,” almost in a growl. The same happened at the boat shed door too.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Jude said, breathless again. “But I’d move a whole lot faster if you weren’t doing such a good impression of a limpet.” Rob’s grip on him only tightened, his face now pressed to Jude’s throat. “Hey. I’m not going anywhere, you know?” Jude said, tilting Rob’s face so he could see it washed pale in the moonlight. “You okay?”
Rob’s hold loosened, his exhale a shudder. He said, “Yeah. Come on, Jude. Hurry.” Then he backed off, pulling his shirt over his head even before the door shut behind them, jeans puddled at his ankles that he kicked to one side, stripping out of his underwear and socks as he took the last few steps backwards, his face in complete shadow until he reached the bunk under the portholes. Rob turned away to climb onto the larger sleeping space Jude had spent the afternoon rebuilding. Flat on his belly with one knee drawn up, and marbled by moonlight, he looked as good as when Jude first found him, his first night back in Cornwall.
“You’re so gorgeous,” Jude said.
If there were obstacles in his way, he didn’t notice, the stacks of tables and chairs simply not registering, nor the pile of boxes from his dad’s study. Getting to Rob as fast as he could was Jude’s entire motivation. He finished unfastening his belt one-handed, running the palm of his free hand from Rob’s ankle to the soft dip at the back of his knee. Then Jude used both hands to quickly strip out of the rest of his clothes, not caring where they landed. “You are,” he insisted. “So bloody gorgeous.” Rob trembled under his next touch, Jude stroking upwards from Rob’s knee to his thigh, another quiver coming as Jude reached the curve of his arse and said, “You’re perfect.”
Rob buried his face in his pillow, the of-course-I-am retort that Jude more than half-expected strange in its absence, and only the stagger of a ragged inhale audible as Jude caressed his backside. Maybe the increased spread of Rob’s legs was a clue to his rare silence, Jude wondered, the tight bunch of his biceps another as Jude traced the divide between his cheeks with the tip of a finger. “Do you want me to…?”
Rob nodded and said, “Fuck me.”
Jude joked, saying, “So romantic,” pleased that Rob let out a huff sounding much closer to laughter.
“That’s better.” Jude ran his hands up from Rob’s behind to the wide span of his shoulders, tugging there until Rob turned over, even lovelier from this perspective. “Stop trying to make me hurry.” The only rush Jude felt right then was amazement that he got to have this, and the Anchor booked for the whole summer. Lou being so happy after working hard for so long was a bonus, and Trevor’s postcards were a true gift, bringing all of them closer to real closure. This—here—was the start of a whole new chapter, a second chance to live instead of existing while searching for forgiveness it turned out he’d never needed. No way was he going to rush this, not when far from being an entitled nuisance, Rob was the reason for everything good that had happened.
Jude knelt on the bunk he’d rebuilt and wrapped a hand around Rob’s ankle, lifting it to cup his heel in one palm, the thumb of the other rubbing a firm line along its arch.
“You got a thing about feet?” Rob sounded vaguely aghast.
“I’ve got a thing about you.” And yes, even shadowed, there was the start of the smirk that drove him wild before he knew it was Rob’s version of foreplay that extended into a real smile when Jude asked, “Did I tell you that part of the deal with the yacht charter business involves doing whatever guests ask you?”
In the dim light, the jet of Rob’s eyes narrowed and turned beady. “Is this leading up to some kind of kinky role play?”
“No, it means you do whatever makes them happy.” He pressed the pad of his thumb into a spot on the sole of Rob’s foot that prompted a groan. “One of the first charters didn’t even want to leave the harbour. Drove me crazy at the time, when we could have been sailing closer to somewhere I needed to search.” He pressed another spot, and this time, Rob shivered. “Ended up escorting them around spas on land all week. You know how much people will pay to get a foot rub?”
“Nearly as much as I’ll pay for you to rub my dick right now instead?”
“I can stop.”
“Maybe in a minute.” Rob thrust his other foot into Jude’s lap. “Spas,” he said thoughtfully.
“So many spas. Those clients would pay for someone to put hot pebbles on them, mud, you name it. Then they’d want to sight-see, so I’d have to play chauffeur for them.”
Jude ran both hands up from Rob’s ankles as Rob murmured, “Guided tours,” under his breath, musing.
Jude shifted up the bed, Rob’s leg hair finer as he reached higher. “I nearly died so many times driving on the wrong side of the road, but sitting around waiting outside spas gave me a lot of time to think.” He leaned over Rob to kiss him. “Used to wonder if we’d ever get as far as this if I’d stayed in London.”
“We would have got here, no problem. This was always going to happen.” Rob’s eyes were bright, his smile as wide as Jude had ever seen it. Jude lowered his head and skimmed the shaft of Rob’s cock first, fingers curling around it to stroke, moisture at the head catching the scant light as Jude leaned over to lick it. The taste of salt and sex, the thick stretch of his mouth, the warm weight that throbbed in his hand—all this was what he’d wanted. “I missed you,” he said after he pulled off, his voice ragged. “Saw you everywhere I looked, Rob, even when I didn’t want to.”
Rob pulled him up for a kiss then, this time taking longer as Jude settled in the cradle of his spread legs, rocking together and cocks touching in a way that felt amazing. “Coming home to find you here in my bed was torture, and brilliant. Amazing and awful. All of those at the same time.”
Rob’s voice held an edge of wonder. “Who would have guessed you’d end up chatty and romantic?” Then he choked back laughter and said, “I take it back,” when Jude fumbled under the pillow and echoed something that Rob had recently asked him.
“Warming lube or ordinary?”
Rob said, “Oh, God. I’ve made a monster,” groaning, but he didn’t sound too upset at Jude’s wet touch to his rim. In fact, he was silent.
“Is this good?” Jude paused when Rob stayed quiet, his next exhale more of a croak.
“Fuck, yes.”
Jude eased in a finger. “I thought about doing this for so long. Since London. Even when you were a dick, I wanted to see you like this, feel you open for me, around me.” He readied himself when Rob nodded, pushing inside slowly and slick. “Wanted to fuck that stupid spoilt smirk off your face.”
“Mission accomplished.” Rob half-gasped, half-groaned as Jude eased in, grasping his own dick and stroking as Jude made the slowest possible ingress, the rock of his hips gentle eddies that only strengthened gradually as his pace picked up, a steady push and pull that brought them close together, Rob’s kisses wide open, turning desperate.
Jude slowed his pace, deliberate even as Rob clutched his arse to speed him up, face twisting when Jude found just the right angle, pre-come puddling his belly.
“There, Jude. That’s…” another spurt came with Jude’s next thrust. “If you stop now,” Rob warned, “I’ll throw you off the sea wall.”
Jude thrusts became irregular, short and shallow as he hoped with everything that he had that he gave Rob just what he needed. “Stroke yourself faster,” he managed to get out, coming with a shout right after Rob, whose gaze melted into something soft instead of desperate as Jude shuddered and spilt deep inside him.
Once they lay side by side, Rob was silent in a way Jude could live with, smiling sleepily as Jude wiped come from his chest and belly, and compliant when Jude asked him to roll over. The night settled over them both once he was done, the only sounds their br
eathing slowing, and a yawn from Rob. He rolled again to spoon behind Jude.
“Lou told me, you know?” Jude said.
Rob’s “Hmm?” was sleepy, his breaths against the back of Jude’s neck a warm, regular tickle.
“How did they look?” Jude stretched, drying sweat forcing a shiver that had Rob moving even closer, his front pressed to Jude’s back like it was his job to heat him.
“How did what look?” Rob mumbled.
“The numbers? Lou said you ran them based on the new bookings.” In the dark, the auction-lot of chairs Rob had bought were shadowed towers, the tabletops leaning against them more proof of Rob’s early investment. “We’ll be able to pay you back so much quicker.” The hand Rob had curled over one of Jude’s twitched, chef’s scars knifed across his knuckles washed white by the moonlight. Jude lifted them to his lips, murmuring as he kissed them. “Maybe even before the end of the summer.”
Rob’s retreat came in stages; the tickle of breath against the back of Jude’s neck stuttering then stopping, his next exhalation much longer, but shallow. The mattress dipped before levelling, his slow roll away evident as Jude’s back cooled.
“The figures weren’t good?” Surprise had Jude up on one elbow. “Really?” He looked over his shoulder to find Rob facing in the other direction. “Wow. I thought we might be much closer to being in the black on your spreadsheet.” This was why he left bookkeeping to Lou like Dad used to with their Mum. There must be something he hadn’t factored in that mattered. A mental image of Tom dividing tips left by grateful clients was so clear he could almost hear the rustle of banknotes. “I suppose we will have to pay for more help, once we’re busier.”
They lay quietly for what felt like ages, the sea breaking against the sea wall a rhythmic shush that had Jude’s eyelids lowering as if weighted.
“The figures are fine.”
Jude rolled over to scoot closer at Rob’s quiet answer, his knees fitting behind Rob’s as he slid an arm around his middle, slotting them perfectly together like same-size spoons in a drawer. The skin of Rob’s shoulder was salty where Jude’s lips brushed, too close to sleep to form a real kiss. “We’ll pay you back as soon as we can,” Jude mumbled, so tired that Rob’s whispered reply was dreamlike.
“I really wish you wouldn’t.”
31
The next week reminded Jude so much of being aboard the Aphrodite that he was fooled a few times, stumbling over flagstone floors when he half-expected a wooden deck to rise to meet him. There were echoes of Tom everywhere as well. Jude heard him over and over as Rob instructed their new hires, kind if they messed up but determined, so determined, that they’d meet his high expectations. He steered them in a familiar way Jude had half-forgotten, Rob leading by example as well, using praise as a carrot the new hires willingly followed.
Each day got busier as word spread, the bar full most evenings with what Rob called a soft opening for locals who spilt out to enjoy drinks with a view of the harbour. The restaurant kept Jude busy while Louise tallied their increasing takings, much closer now to a breakeven point that would soon tip them into profit.
Why that bothered Rob, Jude wasn’t certain, but he’d seen him frown at Louise’s spreadsheets too often not to notice.
As had become a habit, Jude stopped midway through grinding spice for that day’s lunch special and went in search of Rob, scooping up that morning’s post from the office as an excuse, this time. He found him on his knees in one of the bathrooms. “And that’s how you clean a toilet. You got it?” he asked one of Susan’s nieces, chuckling as she asked why she couldn’t just swish some bleach around the bowl and call it good. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, before telling her a story much the same as Tom had told Jude when he’d hired him, only instead of explaining rich charter clients’ high expectations, Rob raised a different subject.
“Imagine your auntie Susan just got back from some treatment all the way up in Bristol. She’s tired after sitting on the M5 for hours, and the A30 was atrocious.” The new hire nodded; at least that much she could clearly picture. “She’s absolutely done in, but at least she can have a bath before dinner, wash away the smell of the hospital and feel half-way human.” He breathed in deeply through his nose, and Jude wondered if his trainee knew she mirrored his inhale so completely. “What can you smell?” Rob asked.
“Nothing,” she frowned before adding. “No, I can smell soap.” She sniffed again. “It’s nice. Lavender?”
“Yes.” Rob noticed Jude then. He winked while straightening a fluffy face cloth and bars of the handmade soap they’d purchased together at a farmers’ market first date that seemed months ago rather than weeks. “Anything else?”
“The sea?” She hesitated and then frowned. “And something spicy?”
At that, Rob outright laughed, sweet to her as she blushed to see Jude in the doorway. “That’s because my boyfriend’s hot stuff. You have an excellent nose,” he praised before getting back to his training. “So, the sea and lavender soap, or cheap bleach. What would you rather your auntie smell on her very worst day?”
“I get it,” she said, earnest. And she did, Jude could see in the straightening of her shoulders.
“Good, because every guest could have a story like hers. Now take a photo of this room on your phone, darling”—he looked at his watch—“and then go make the next bathroom look and smell exactly like it. I’ll time you.”
He stood back as she scurried past. Then he surged in for a kiss when Jude said, “I thought I was your darling.”
Rob beamed when Jude grumbled. “You”—Rob kissed him again—“are glorious when you’re jealous. And you’re so much more than my darling.”
“Yeah?” And this feeling—this yearning, wishing, wanting that hadn’t died down yet in the slightest—was the same here as it ever was aboard the Aphrodite, tangled seaweed-like around his ankles to tie him to Rob when he should have been back in the kitchen already. The urge to shut the door and stay, to strip Rob as bare as he felt every single time he woke up wrapped around him, would have been overwhelming if he’d let it; would have washed him away and he wouldn’t have even tried to fight it if that meant Rob was with him, like this, long-term.
“Yes,” Rob said certain. “Anyone can be my darling, but you’re my one and only fish face.”
They stood close and kissed. Susan’s niece came back, stuttering that she’d finished, but they barely parted.
He’d never be finished, Jude knew as Rob absently told her he’d be with her in a moment, his lips a much deeper shade of pink, his expression soft—so soft—as he smoothed creases from the front of Jude’s chef jacket. He’d put them there, fabric curled in his fists like holding tight to Jude was just as vital, as if he didn’t have a hundred and one things to do now they were booked solid.
Rob and Lou managed to make the wild flurry of preparation easy, every day bringing new moments that Jude hoarded to treasure later, imagining replaying them the next time he left Porthperrin to search for answers.
“Hey.” Rob tapped the face of his watch again. “That fish curry won’t cook itself. Shouldn’t you be somewhere, sailor?”
He should go.
He would go.
In just another minute.
“Why were you looking for me anyway?” Rob persisted.
“Oh,” Jude pulled the post from his apron pocket. “There’s one for you.” The change in Rob’s expression as he saw the writing on the envelope was so slight he might have missed it if he wasn’t obsessed with gathering every single glimpse for later. There was enough of a downturn to his smile to make Jude outright ask a question. “Who’s it from?”
“Dad.” Rob paused before opening the envelope as if steeling himself for something awful. “Oh.” The next shift in his expression was confusing given that the card he extracted featured an image of a Champagne bottle. Despite that, Rob didn’t open it to read the message, still holding the card gingerly as if it was a sleeping snake coiled in his
palms that might strike him.
“What does it say?” Jude prompted as Rob remained quiet. For all the overconfidence Rob had ever shown him, Jude didn’t like this absence one bit. “Rob?” he asked again, quietly.
Rob’s headshake was as minimal as that change in his expression had been. He moved as if to stuff the card into his back pocket until Jude reached out a hand to stop him. “It’ll be nothing,” Rob promised, backing one step away.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing that I haven’t heard already.” Rob rolled his eyes and affected a lower-pitched stern voice. “Blah blah, all the real work is in London. Blah blah, stop playing at running a business and get back in my kitchen.”
He joked, but his jaw clenched. His gaze flitted towards the hallway and escape. Jude leaned across the doorway. “Strange then that the front of the card says ‘Congratulations.’ I’ll read it for you if you want.”
Rob blew out a long breath. “Go ahead,” he said, letting go when Jude tugged, busying himself with refolding a towel that was already perfect, his movements only stilling as Jude read the three sentences written inside. “So proud of your achievement. Your mum would be too, Rob. Good luck with the official opening.”
Rob stood in perfect stillness, the mirror reflecting the sudden softening of that clenched jaw, so Jude said, “You should ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
“To come.” Jude persisted before Rob’s soft expression could harden. “For the official opening night. I’d ask mine in a heartbeat if I could.” And wasn’t that a new truth; something that he’d always wanted deep down, sure it could never happen. “Your dad must have already been proud of you, otherwise why would he have sent Guy Parsons? And I know—”
