Ephraim realized this was an effort to hand him the reins and let him set the pace; a gesture he very much appreciated.Furthermore, from the perspective of his aged joints, it would prove much easier to draw Drude down to him than to raise his hips to meet Drude’s mouth.
Hull, meanwhile, kissed him again, but now with light and graceful touches.His lips alighted on Ephraim’s like butterfly wings, ever-so-softly marking the contours of his mouth as if discovering them for the first time.His hands likewise trailed delicately over his body, the fingertips of one tracing the curve of Ephraim’s ear whilst the other smoothed up and down his ribs.Only when Ephraim’s lips parted did Hull’s kiss delve further, and even then, lightly, until Ephraim found courage enough to tangle his free hand in his beloved’s dark blue curls and deepen their embrace.With every breath Hull gasped into his mouth, Ephraim felt stronger, brighter, braver.
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.
