OF DREAMS AND CEREMONIES (17 page)

But Nicholas hushed him again, straddled Dave's hips, knelt up tall -
and reached behind himself to apply the lube
.

"Oh God," Dave muttered. "Oh God."

And then Nicholas was positioning himself - lowering himself - and it was happening, it was happening, they were both gasping with the need, with the pain - for Nicholas was as tight as any virgin - but Dave knew Nicholas wanted it that way, he wanted it just exactly so, Dave could tell - so he clasped a hand to each of Nicholas's hips and tugged him down further - they both cried out in a joyous agony - Nicholas grasped at Dave's forearms to keep himself upright - and Nicholas let his weight sink further, he forced himself down even as Dave pushed himself up - and it was extraordinary, Dave had forgotten how extraordinary it was to thrust himself inside another human being - it was so hot, so hard, so glorious. Soon he was buried deep within Nicholas and Nicholas had given himself utterly over, his head slumping forward and his hands now loosening from where they'd marked Dave's skin, his arms now stretching wide as his head lifted and fell back - and Dave bucked up hard, brought his feet in close and took his weight on them - then as he lowered his hips again Nicholas carefully rose - and they crashed back together - and then they were
fucking
they were
fucking
- and it was raw and awesome and elemental, and Nicholas's deeply resounding groans meant that this was what he wanted, this was exactly what he'd wanted - and Dave took heart from that - he took courage and boldness from it - and after a few magnificent thrusts Dave grasped Nicholas's hips harder still, hauled him down and then pushed himself up so he was sitting with legs loosely crossed and Nicholas in his lap - Nicholas took Dave's head in both hands and devoured his mouth and cheeks with bites and licks and kisses - which was gorgeous but Dave couldn't thrust like that and he wanted to
thrust,
so Dave at last tumbled Nicholas over onto his back, those long legs aslant over Dave's back - and he thrust in hard, he thrust himself into Nicholas even while their right hands met on Nicholas's cock, and they tugged at him
hard
and
rough
until moments later he spilled with a guttural yell that reverberated all the way through Dave's cock and balls and they were both coming so damned forceful that sensation was a rush of dark ocean, and for a moment the stars blinked out.

"Oh God," said Dave.

"God, I
needed
that," said Nicholas. He seemed utterly happy, sprawled back in abandon - not in pain at all. Still, of course Dave had to check as best as he could that Nicholas was okay.

Dave hauled himself out of the bed and went to find a clean face washer, ran it under the hot water, and wrung it out. Returning to the bedroom, he knelt by Nicholas, grasped a hip and gently rolled him over.

Nicholas went with a happy whoop, which on the whole indicated he was fine. Still, Dave took his responsibilities towards this man very seriously. He carefully wiped Nicholas clean, and looked for blood, but there was none, not even a speck.

"I'm fine," said Nicholas, still sounding blissfully happy.

"I'm glad," said Dave, rather inadequately though with a full heart. He tossed the face washer aside and collapsed to lie beside his love.

Nicholas rolled over again and they drew each other into a mutual hug. "I really needed that, David," Nicholas repeated, quietly this time. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Dave replied quite honestly.

"Thank you for
not
being gentle with me," Nicholas persisted.

"Idiot," Dave grumbled. "Love you."

Nicholas sighed quite contentedly and wriggled in closer. "Love you, too." After a while they slept.

thirteen

"Your admirer is wanting to see you again," Dave announced. It was the following morning, and Dave had been taking the kitchen rubbish and recycling out to the bins when he'd seen Bert sitting on the altar stone up at the stone circle, waving eagerly, just as he'd done once before.

"Oh good," Nicholas brightly replied. Then he cast a half-apologetic look at Dave. "Well, you know … I wanted to be sure he's all right before we leave."

"Of course," Dave stoutly agreed, rather than making a pointed remark about the romance inherent in Nicholas and Bert's moonlit boat trip. "Look," he said, "are you really okay with letting Vincent go free? Can we live with that?"

"Can you?"

Dave shrugged. "Part of me wants to turn him in. But mostly, I guess I just want to be sure that Bert is all right."

"Me, too." Nicholas seemed to feel a mix of relief and guilt, but there didn't seem to be much they could do about that.

"Hopefully no one else gets hurt between now and whenever justice finally catches up with Vincent."

Which rather deflated poor Nicholas. "True."

Dave changed the subject. "Looks like there's more of those gold ribbons tied around the stones, too."

"Oh! So it was Bert, then? Even the flowers?"

Dave shrugged. "Guess so. Falling in love will make a man do unexpected things."

Nicholas just grinned at him so very happily.

By the time they got up to the stone circle, they found not only Bert up there but Maeve as well - and even old Joan, who apparently wasn't as sedentary as they'd assumed. The three locals appeared to be in a celebratory mood.

"All right, Bert?" asked Nicholas.

"All right, Nicholas," the old man replied with his cheeks pinker than ever and his shy smile almost as sweet as Nicholas's own.

"We wanted to thank you," said Maeve, with an expansive gesture that took in the nine gold ribbons each fluttering in the morning breeze. It was a cool day, but quite sunny, and rather delightfully fresh.

"Ah, then it was you the other day," Dave said. "And the flowers, too." He should have guessed already. Maeve had a white and gold frangipani bloom in her hair today - silk, of course, but beautiful nevertheless.

"Yes," she answered. Then as Maeve read their looks of relief, her face fell. "Oh … That kind of creeped you out, didn't it?"

"We just didn't know who," Nicholas explained.

"Or what or why," Dave added.

"It was nice, though."

Maeve grimaced in remorse at Joan. "It was meant to be a handfasting ceremony … without the actual hands. A gesture of support, yeah? We'd heard that some people have been a bit … disapproving."

Nicholas was now gazing at Maeve with great interest. "A handfasting ceremony … ?"

"Completely redundant, I know," she continued with a shrug. "You're already married."

"We had a civil partnership ceremony," Nicholas explained. "And we'll be registering our relationship in Queensland once we get there. But it's not marriage." Nicholas turned to Dave. "I figure that if we can ever get properly married - here or in Australia - we'll do that, too. Won't we?"

Dave had to laugh. "Is that
another
proposal?"

"Yes," Nicholas immediately replied, grinning like the most delightful of idiots.

"Then of course we will."

Nicholas soon turned a bit sheepish, however. "It's not that the civil partnership doesn't count. And I wouldn't put you through another whole big thing with everyone there, I promise. But the more anniversaries the merrier, right?"

Despite the fact there were other people there hanging on their every word, Dave took the time to think about that - and then leaned in close to quietly ask Nicholas, "It's not that you don't think I'm committed, right? I mean, you don't
need
an extra set of vows to be sure of me, do you?"

"Not in the slightest," Nicholas averred, lightly yet honestly. "I am
totally
sure of you."

"Okay, good. Is it about the visa thing, then? Proving our relationship to them?"

Nicholas paled, and metaphorically took a step back. "They'll think I'm trying too hard, won't they?"

Dave smiled, and lifted a hand, shaped it to that beautiful face. "They'll know you mean every single word." And when Nicholas seemed reassured, Dave straightened up again, then glanced at Maeve, wondering if this were even possible. He asked Nicholas - in his regular voice, so they'd all hear - "Nicholas Goring, you wanna get handfasted with me?"

"Yes," was the instant response, with the most gorgeous smile for Dave. "Yes, I do." Then Nicholas turned to Maeve. "If we can…"

Maeve turned to Joan. "Gran can do that for you. Can't you, Gran?"

The old woman nodded quite happily. Bert was beaming blissfully and yearning wistfully all at once. Nicholas looked like he was floating on air.

"Let's get that done, then," said Dave.

Which was how they found themselves later that afternoon, the five of them reconvened at the stone circle along with Margaret, who had closed the store for an hour so that she could attend as well. Joan was standing by the tallest stone nearest the sea, with Nicholas and Dave facing each other before her, and with Bert at Nicholas's shoulder and Maeve at Dave's as their witnesses. Nicholas had insisted it was Dave's turn to choose the clothes, so they were both in proper shirts, knitted sweaters and blue jeans. And Dave decided that the circle of standing stones was a pretty special place after all, and certainly more significant than the Disraeli Room, but mainly because he and Nicholas and their new friends were making it so.

Joan recited some words in Celtic or Cornish or whatever in a soothing cadence, and then Maeve read out parts of a poem by Thomas Hardy about him meeting his first wife Emma in Cornwall, which Maeve had adapted to fit the two men. Dave had never been much into poetry, but a few lines of it stayed with him: 
'The man whom I did love so, and who loyally loved me.'
But, really, who cared about getting the genders right when the truth of the feelings transcended all?

'And shall he and I not go there once again now winter's nigh,

And the sweet things said that October say anew there by and by?'

Maeve finished there, and then Margaret gave them each a silk flower to hold - wattle for Dave and a rose for Nicholas. As they each clasped their flower to the other's wrist, Joan bound a gold ribbon around them, from one forearm to the other. Then she led them in their renewed vows.

"I David Taylor take thee Nicholas Goring to my wedded husband for a lifetime, till death us depart, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Dave loved the quaint old words, so much more poetic than the formal vows for the civil partnership ceremony had been and definitely far more like a proper wedding.

Nicholas vowed the same, and not as tongue-stumblingly as Dave had done. Then they kissed with an intensity that even now felt new to them both. And it was done and done again, and no man nor woman would ever put them asunder. And if they even tried, Dave found himself fiercely thinking as he gazed into Nicholas's deep dark blue eyes - they'd have to deal with the stroppiest bloody Australian who'd ever lived.

Nicholas hated goodbyes so they were barely spending forty-eight hours in Buckinghamshire. They drove back from Cornwall in time for dinner on one day, and were flying out from Heathrow in the evening two days later. Nicholas had even asked that no one but the usual family members should be there - though of course he was inundated with phone calls, texts and emails from the others - so on that first night Dave and Nicholas sat down to eat with Richard, Robert and Penelope, Robin and Isabelle. Everyone was perfectly jovial, in an apparent effort to save Nicholas or themselves too much grief. Only Robin every now and then betrayed the tragedy of it all when the act cracked apart and his sorrow showed through. Young Robin's heart was breaking for the first time.

No matter how ready the general joviality, however, there could be no pretending that Nicholas wasn't leaving. Mrs Gilchrist was cooking every last one of Nicholas's favourite meals. Nicholas's room was strangely empty because Simon had organised the packing of the books, clothes and other belongings that they couldn't take with them on the plane; it was currently all on a container ship somewhere on its way to Australia.

Asked to fetch Nicholas for dinner on that first night, Dave had finally tracked him down in the garage, sitting curled up in the passenger seat of the MGB V8 roadster quietly talking with Frank Brambell who sat beside him with both hands on the wheel of the car he'd never drive again. Dave had crept away as best he could across the gravel driveway, and announced he'd failed in his hunt. Luckily for Mrs Gilchrist's peace of mind, however - not to mention Dave's - Nicholas showed up barely five minutes later.

On the full day Dave and Nicholas were in Buckinghamshire, the family held an afternoon tea to which were invited all the people associated with the estate and most of those living in the nearby village. The women - led by Frank's wife Agate - presented Nicholas and Dave with a handmade queen-sized wedding quilt which included their names and the date of their civil partnership ceremony in embroidery, and a colourful kaleidoscope of butterflies in patchwork. Dave was too astonished and Nicholas too moved to say very much in response, but Agate filled the silence with a humorous description of the women's quilting bees, such a creative shambles as they worked to a tight deadline, and then Richard thanked them very properly indeed on behalf of his beloved son and son-in-law.

Seeing their full names stitched into the quilt set Dave to thinking. He snuck away once the afternoon tea was done, and did some research on Nicholas's laptop. When a rather drained-looking Nicholas joined him in the half hour before dinner, Dave was all set. "I was thinking about our names," Dave announced.

"Yes?" Nicholas prompted, collapsing back onto his bed as if it were quite possible he would never move again.

"Our last names, I mean. We've each kept our own."

"Yes …" Nicholas agreed, somewhat warily.

"I figure you don't want to be Nicholas Taylor, and - no offence - I don't want to be Dave Goring."

Nicholas propped himself up on his elbows and considered Dave with narrowed eyes while he waited to hear where this was going.