Queermance Anthology, Volume 1 (11 page)

Tully had avoided the beach last year until all signs of tents and kids had gone back to their
inner suburban homes.

By contrast, this night and seeing a seal enjoying itself was both soothing and picturesque.
Absently, Tully remained, watching the seal until its swim took it so far out into the ocean that he
could see it no more.

****

Tully lived alone. After long days at work, there was no one for him to come home
to. The nights were growing shorter and the first chill air of the season had flowed through not two
nights before. Sometimes, putting off going back to his empty house after work made it feel like he
was less lonely, especially on Friday nights. It didn't work, of course. There wasn't anyone to fool
but himself; and Tully knew better.

He flicked on the kitchen lights as soon as he stepped inside, and turned on the percolator.
Coffee would perk him up enough for a couple of hours dedicated to his writing. He was only a
tinkerer; never had anything published. But something about the escapism, or catharsis, drew him
back to his small, cosy study at least twice a week. Here, he could pretend that he was a hero in
the midst of adventures or flights of fancy that took him out of his desk job. If only for those
couple of hours a week, he could ride horses or fly.

With a mug of coffee in hand and a vague idea of what he wanted to write, Tully turned on the
laptop that sat on his desk in his study, opposite his bedroom. The study walls were filled with
outdated movie posters he'd scored from a video rental store he'd worked at in his early 20s. Many
of the corners were fraying, or gone. Old fantasy paperbacks - most garnered from second hand
shops over the years - filled a low bookshelf under the window. They matched well with the worn
feeling of the house itself. That had been the only reason he'd managed to get the place cheap. He'd
been lucky there hadn't been any property developers at his auction.

The clicking of the keyboard keys became meditative after a while. Once he got into the flow of
his writing, he stopped reaching for his coffee cup. The coffee was cold before he finished drinking
it. A dark brown line circled the inside of the mug.

****

It was 11.30 a.m. before Tully rolled himself out of bed the next morning. The
percolator was his first stop as he began his day the way he'd ended the previous one.

It could very easily have been a day when he didn't leave his house. Certainly, that was how
Tully had spent more than one weekend. In the couple of years since he'd bought this little haven in
Ocean Grove, he'd only had family and a couple of friends from work come to visit. Even with the
lure of the beach so close by.

He didn't mind, or so he told himself. He had more than enough to entertain him inside the house.
He wasn't even going to stand in the kitchen and look out the window for any longer than it took to
make his coffee and a piece of toast.

The narrow path outside his kitchen window led onto the main footpath. Though the beach wasn't
visible from his house, people coming from the main road had to walk past him to the beach. In
summer, the footpath was a humming thoroughfare of parents and children in swim gear and snorkels.
This morning, the sky was overcast, grey clouds claustrophobically low.

Tully could hear only a handful of people through his partially open window. He barely looked up.
Then one lone man walked past.

Tully's eye was drawn to him, like it had been drawn out to the ocean the night before. He
couldn't have said what moved him. A spark of sudden interest. A point of difference in his
day-to-day of coffee, work or writing. The man had the same look of liquid hair flowing down his
back. For a second, Tully wondered if he had a type. It had never specifically come up in his
stories before; his love interests were usually otherworldly males, but liquid hair had never been a
descriptor.

Nevertheless, as the lone man's head turned, gaze reaching into Tully's kitchen and captivating
him, Tully felt his breath catch.

Tully put his coffee mug down carefully on the kitchen bench. He walked out of his kitchen and
the house. He didn't even think about it. The other man didn't move as Tully approached him, only
tipped his head to the side as though curious as to what would happen next. Up close, Tully saw the
other man's eyes were grey-green, like the colour of the ocean at night. That seemed right.

'Hello.' Now that he was standing in front of him, Tully felt nervous. With a glance, he'd been
able to tell the other man was sure of himself. It was in the still way he held himself, chin half
lifted and eyes steady. It was a pose adopted by all men who were confident of their looks.

Tully wasn't. He wasn't so much an unattractive man. The most derogatory thing a person had ever
said about his appearance was that he was pale. No, it wasn't that he was unattractive. There just
wasn't anything striking about him. For some people, black hair made a striking contrast against
pale skin. Some were tall. Others were short, with perhaps button noses, or cute feet. Tully was a
gangly man in his mid-twenties, of average height, and mousey brown hair. There were a couple of
freckles across his nose, but even they were bland.

When Tully met the eyes of the other man, there was about half a foot in height difference
between them. He didn't expect to receive a second glance.

Still, 'Hello,' the other man replied. His voice almost matched Tully's tone, but in a lower
register. He continued to watch Tully.

It was nice to be seen. 'Would you…?' Tully shrugged his shoulder in the direction of his
little seaside house. He needed to swallow around a suddenly dry throat. 'Would you like to come in?
For a coffee?'

A young couple walked past them as Tully spoke. The couple witnessed Tully's awkwardness. It
wasn't the first time Tully had invited someone home for coffee. It might have been the soonest he'd
done it after meeting, though. Tully was sure the hesitation from the other man would end in
'no'.

Therefore, nobody was more surprised than Tully when the man with the liquid hair answered, 'Yes.
That would be nice.'

****

Tully held out a coffee mug for the other man. A thought struck him, and he ducked
his head in sudden chagrin.

'I didn't even ask you your name,' he said.

'It's Sean.' This was delivered with an easy smile. It was impossible to feel chagrined when
faced with it. Tully breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled back. They were standing in a patch of
light coming in from the kitchen window. With Sean here, suddenly his whole worn-down house was a
bit brighter.

He didn't bring Sean into the study on his brief tour of the house. He'd brought men home before
who had denigrated his "obsessions" with the posters and the books, and he didn't feel like
defending them right now. Not from Sean.

But Sean was the perfect house guest. He appeared completely charmed by the tacky Ocean Grove
tourist trinkets that Tully displayed on side table and mantelpiece in his living room. He
complimented the way the towels were placed just so on the rack in the bathroom.

'I like to keep my things in their particular place too,' Sean answered when asked.

It was going really well. Tully didn't know how to include his bedroom in the tour without it
seeming like an awkward invitation that he, nonetheless, really wanted to make.

Sean solved that issue for him as well.

'There's not a lot of light in there,' he said, making the show of peering in. 'I can't quite
see…'

When Tully leaned in to flick on the light switch, Sean reached for his hand and turned him
around to face him. A moment passed between them where Sean searched his gaze, making sure this was
something Tully wanted to do.

How was one to describe the glass of water after the drought? How did one describe the feast
after the famine?

The first touch of Sean's lips against his, and Tully knew he never wanted Sean to leave. He
didn't know where the other man had come from, and he didn't care. As long as he could have this
moment, and another dozen like it, he would be happy.

Something about their bodies touching for the first time felt
right
. Tully couldn't
remember the last time he had felt like this. Their clothes were shed in a matter of seconds,
abandoned on the floor, as they took to the bed.

Sean's skin was cool from the beach. His touch was a balm for Tully's fevered skin.

Tully had lubricant, of course, and condoms in the top drawer of his bedside table. He guided
Sean's body down towards the bed, shifting his hips so that it would be most pleasurable for him.
Tully's cock was already erect at the sight of Sean's left cheek against his pillow, ass arched up.
Sean's hand had already found his own penis, and he was stroking it slowly while Tully sheathed
himself with a condom. He ran a hand slicked with lubricant along his shaft once, twice, then
kneeled forward and pressed the tip of his head against Sean's tight hole.

With a gasp and a shudder, Tully entered the other man, hands clasping and tightening across the
skin of his hips. The two men groaned in unison. They'd spoken barely a dozen words between them,
but now they shared a common language.

Tully had to remind himself slow, steady thrusts, even as the sweat beaded on his forehead and he
clung to Sean with ever-increasing need. He lifted a hand from Sean's hip to palm the other man's
cock, working it until they were both in a state of frenzy.

Sean came first, spending his seed across Tully's hand and the bed. Tully was not long after.
They both fell down on the bed, exhausted and replete.

****

Minutes, hours, days afterwards, Tully and Sean emerged once again from the
bedroom. The air was still heavy with the pungent smell of sex. Tully wore a broad grin.

They wandered into the kitchen without a scrap of clothing between them. Sean's own relaxed smile
was easy on his features as he leaned against the counter. Before, it would have been Tully's first
concern to close the shutters so as not to shock anyone who might pass by. The thought was still
there, but rather than rushing to shield potential embarrassment, Tully sauntered across the
kitchen, kissing Sean briefly on the lips and putting on the percolator, before leaning across to
close the kitchen shutter.

Then he drew another mug down from the cupboard.

'So Sean, whereabouts are you from?'

'Ireland, actually,' he answered.

Tully thought he would have been able to hear the exotic twang of an Irish accent in Sean's
voice. He listened for it, but it was so faded as to hardly be there at all.

'How long have you been here?' Tully asked as he poured coffee first into Sean's mug, then into
his own. He glanced often at the two mugs, sitting side by side where so often there had been only
one.

'Oh,' said Sean. He gazed off into the distance as though counting the months. 'It's been a
while. I've been travelling up and down the east coast.'

'That is…' That was something Tully had always wanted to do. It was never the right time.
He could never get the time off work. He had the mortgage to pay on this place. He wasn't sure he
wanted to do it on his own. 'That sounds great.'

'It is.' Sean slid Tully a sidelong glance. 'You've never seen it?'

'I've never been out of Victoria, to tell you the truth.' Tully rubbed the back of his neck. He
felt slightly embarrassed to be admitting that.

'Well,' said Sean, as he picked up his mug. 'We'll have to see what we can do about that.'

Smiling, Tully lifted his own coffee mug. He couldn't think of anything to say to that. But on
introspection he found, deep inside - where there had only been loneliness and disappointment
- a small ball of warmth was in his chest.

'You can stay here,' Tully said, and for once he didn't feel awkward saying it. Sean's gaze swung
around to him and emboldened Tully. 'For as long as you're around, I mean. You can stay here.'

Sean winked at him. 'I might just take you up on that.'

****

The weekend passed in a flurry of sex, coffee and rest. Marathons in the bedroom
were broken only by ventures to the kitchen for food and coffee behind closed shutters.

On Sunday night, Sean left the bed. Tully only knew because he woke up as the other man was
crawling back into bed. Still half asleep, Tully rolled into Sean and promptly returned to
unconsciousness.

On Monday morning, Tully's alarm went off. Sean didn't stir on his side of the bed. Tully's lips
curved at the idea that Sean already had a side of his bed.

It was difficult to force himself out of the room and into the shower. He felt like he should say
something to Sean, but didn't want to wake him. In the shower, it struck him that he was afraid that
Sean would disappear by the time he came home from work, as though he'd never been, as though their
weekend together had been nothing but Tully's imagination.

When he strode back into the bedroom for some clothes, his hair wet and flopping over his
forehead. A few droplets of water trailed down his neck. Sean opened one eye, but the rest of his
face was all but buried in the pillow.

Tully kneeled beside the bed. 'I'll be home at around 5.30 tonight,' he said. 'You going to be
okay around here on your own?'

Sean smiled, and nodded slowly, before closing his eye and going back to sleep.

Tully considered not going into work that day: calling in sick, fake-coughing down the phone,
putting off the inevitable. Somehow, integrity won out. Or maybe it was the fear that if he called
in that day, he would call in for the whole week, and the next, for however long Sean decided to
stay.

He caught the bus to work. He paid his fare and sat directly behind the driver as the bus pulled
out into the Monday morning traffic. The weather had cleared after the weekend, and the sun was
already out from between the clouds. Tully barely noticed. It was an hour-long trip between Ocean
Grove and Geelong, and Tully was miserable the whole way.