Author: Matthew J. Metzger
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/matthew-j-metzger/page,12,570963-the_beginning_starting_over.html
“Isn’t he married now?”
“Yeah. I’ve fucked the husband, too. My first threesome.”
Aled laughed. “All right, fair enough.”
“It looks nice,” Gabriel said. He swiped out of the ad and into Aled’s photo album. “Oh good, you took more photos.”
“Figured you’d want to explore.”
They slowly slid down the bed together, Gabriel eventually wriggling sideways to lie with his head in Aled’s lap as Aled channel-surfed for something more interesting and Gabriel made decorating plans. He was turning out to be more of a DIY fan than Aled had anticipated.
“All your furniture’s not going to fit,” Gabriel said. “We’re keeping the cuddle chair but the corner sofa isn’t going to work with these floor plans. And if our bedroom’s that big, can we upgrade to a king size? And—”
“And we can think about it and look at our budget once we’ve moved.”
“Oh!” Gabriel finally looked up from the phone. “I forgot to tell you. Suze called.”
“She didn’t text me…”
“No, she rang for me. She’s landed me a job.”
Aled grinned. “Yeah?”
“It’s just maternity cover, but it’s a job. I can get my foot in the door somewhere. And it ends in April, so the summer jobs for the tourists will be opening up and I can hopefully just launch right into something else.”
“Doing what?”
“Admin assistant at a local legal firm. Eleven pounds an hour.”
It was slightly less than he got at the gym, but he was right—a job was a job. And for all that Gabriel didn’t even have so much as a GCSE to his name, he’d always done well in work. Aled supposed it wasn’t too much of a stretch to hope he’d land a permanent contract if they liked him.
“In that case,” he said, raking his hands through Gabriel’s damp hair, “I guess we can think about that king size.”
Gabriel leaned up for a kiss, then tapped Aled’s nose with one finger.
“I know you’ve been keeping your level-headed lid on things,” he whispered.
Aled blinked. “Er.”
“It’s okay,” Gabriel said. “You can get excited if you want.”
“You…sure?”
Truth be told, Aled had been keeping a lid on it. Much as Gabriel had never been precious about where he lived, Cornwall was a long way from the life he’d built for himself in Leeds. Aled had wanted to give him room to be nervous, even apprehensive.
But Gabriel just beamed up at him, and Aled relaxed.
“Thank you,” he said, and stretched for another kiss. “It’s going to be great for us. All three of us.”
Gabriel followed him up for a third kiss, and as Aled was slowly drawn back into another surprisingly vanilla screw, the thought occurred that he’d better hurry up and get the house on the market.
And make Gabriel’s newfound dream a reality.
Chapter Seventeen
Kevin: You busy?
Gabriel winced.
Me: Depends. Red to anything and everything sexual.
Kevin: ???
Kevin: What’s wrong?
Gabriel began to type a reply, but groaned when the phone lit up and started ringing.
“I’m okay,” he said upon answering it. “Don’t freak out.”
“You have to admit, you vetoing anything sexual is unusual,” Kevin replied. “What’s the matter?”
“Just had my smear test,” Gabriel replied. “I’m walking back into town now.”
“If it helps, I was thinking sexual after what I wanted to nick you for,” Kevin said. “Got any plans today?”
“Apart from feeling sorry for myself?”
Gabriel had only gone to get his smear tests done after a blazing row with Aled a couple of years ago, when Aled found out he’d never bothered. And snitched to Kevin, who’d blown his lid. And Gabriel still felt sore about it. They didn’t get it. They were cis. Any probing done in their genital areas didn’t come with an added helping of dysphoria on top of the general discomfort of having a doctor’s fingers where they shouldn’t be.
“Apart from that,” Kevin said.
“Not really.”
“Good. I’m on my way. Where you at?”
“Nearly in town. What about you?”
“Just hit Outwood.”
Gabriel changed course. “I’ll wait outside the private school, then. You can pull in at the gate and I’ll jump in. You in the work van?”
“Naw. Car today. Got the day off.”
“Your ancient car that doesn’t know what a mobile phone is?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So you’re using the phone. While driving.”
Kevin snorted. “No cops about.”
“Doesn’t make you any less of a tit,” Gabriel sniped, and hung up. He pocketed the phone so as not to answer if Kevin rang again, and walked through the housing estate to get to the private school instead. Shabby houses, fancy school. Go figure.
He pulled himself up to sit on the wall and wait. The main road came whizzing by the school and he watched the traffic idly. This part of Wakefield, he definitely wouldn’t miss. He’d not liked cycling around the city much before his accident, never mind after the fact. Nice, quiet roads and decent country air were going to be amazing.
He might even be able to persuade Aled to get on a bike once in a while.
Kevin drove like a moron, and his car squealed into the opening for the school gates in far too short a time to have come down from Outwood under the speed limit. Gabriel pulled a face at him, but shoved some junk off the passenger seat and got in anyway.
“You’re going to get a ticket.”
“Not the first time,” Kevin said, jerking the wheel and pulling out in front of an angry mum. He flipped her off in the rear view.
“What’s got you wound up?” Gabriel asked.
“Took today off to get some shit sorted, and wound up running around after Judith’s fuckin’ mum.”
“Ohhh.”
Kevin’s mother-in-law was only better than his sister-in-law for keeping her racism to a dull roar. No wonder he was edgy.
“The answer’s still red,” Gabriel said. “Sorry. Try again tomorrow.”
Kevin chuckled. “Don’t need you for that. Check out the glovebox.”
“No thanks.”
“Oi! Cheeky. It’s not sexual.”
Gabriel opened the glovebox. A can of antifreeze fell in his lap.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Not that. Put that back, though.”
He did, and slid out the wad of papers. Insurance documents. The vehicle’s logbook. Some other vehicle’s logbook.
“Why do you have this?”
“Don’t ask.”
“All right…”
He finally found the piece of paper Kevin presumably wanted him to find, and unfolded it. A pretty black and white drawing of a chain and padlock were on it, the padlock locked and inscribed with the letter K.
“What’s this?”
“An idea I had. Your going-away present. And a reminder. Though it’s up to you.”
Although Gabriel always had a choice in the form of his safewords, to have Kevin say it upfront was unusual. It typically wasn’t necessary. They’d known each other too long for that.
“Well, what’s the idea?”
“That you get that tattooed around your ankle. Little reminder of your owner in the North.”
Gabriel hesitated. The design was gorgeous, and the idea itself appealed. But it threw up a massive question mark.
Kevin wasn’t his only owner. And he’d never discussed tattoos with the other one.
“Aled and I have never discussed tattoos.”
“Really?”
“He’s not interested. And I’ve never had one. So…I mean, I like the idea and it’s a pretty design. But I don’t know if he’ll like it.”
“Call him and ask.”
Gabriel put the paper back and found his phone
again, but he was sceptical of an answer. It was half-past-ten. Aled would probably be in another one of his boring meetings.
Sure enough, the phone rang but was cancelled within seconds. So Gabriel sat back and sent a text.
Me: Call me please x
“No joy?”
“Meeting. He’ll step out in a minute and call me back. I don’t usually phone him.”
“Don’t freak the poor guy out.”
“I won’t! I put a kiss on it. You don’t put kisses in urgent texts.”
“I don’t. You might.”
“I’m not that inconsidera—hey, Aled.”
Thankfully, Aled had taken the kiss as Gabriel meant it. He sounded perfectly calm.
“Hey. Sorry, I’ve just stepped out of a budget meeting. You have five minutes.”
“Don’t need five. Just wanted to ask, are tattoos okay in our agreement?”
They had a little black book with their BDSM and RACK boundaries in it. Mostly things that were forbidden, rather than expressing permission for other things.
“In what context?” Aled asked.
“Kevin wants to give me a tattoo to remind me of my northern owner,” Gabriel explained. “Is that okay?”
“Where?”
“My ankle.”
“What’s the design?”
“Padlock and chain with the letter K on it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“Sure,” Aled said. “If you want me to think one up for the other foot, though, you might be stretching it. Not my area.”
The idea hadn’t occurred to Gabriel, and he stretched out his leg in the footwell of Kevin’s car, eyeing it speculatively. Kevin’s padlock and chain. Maybe the first bike route he and Chris had ever done together? That had been the Trans Pennine trail from Barnsley northwards, so that could go up the back of his calf. And—
He touched the charm around his neck that Aled had given him at Tom and Suze’s wedding a couple of years ago, and smiled.
And a rune on the top of his foot, for the man he’d not-quite-but-sort-of agreed to theoretically marry.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I have an idea or two. I’ll run them by you tonight.”
“You coming home tonight?”
“Yeah. It’s a red day.”
“Ah. Okay. See you later. Love you.”
“You too,” he said, and hung up.
“Good to go?” Kevin asked.
“Yup.”
“I can’t believe you’ve never talked about tattoos,” Kevin remarked as they soared back towards Leeds.
“When we first got together, I said no branding or permanent marking or anything like that and that was the end of it,” Gabriel said. “I never said tattoos specifically, but I guess that covered it. And he’s not interested in body art, so he never asked.”
“He doesn’t have any?”
“Nope.”
“Vanilla bastard.”
Gabriel snorted with laughter. “Sure, Kevin. Whatever you say.”
Kevin had a moderate amount of ink, but Judith was the tattoo gun junkie, really. Gabriel liked his piercings, but he’d never had the money for ink, nor really the inclination. They couldn’t be worried the way a piercing could to create a buzz during sex, and he’d be too scared of breaking the skin and marring the tattoo through a violent game.
But his ankle would be okay. His feet never really got involved unless he was shackled to the bed. And they could just get padded cuffs for that.
Kevin’s preferred parlour was in Leeds city centre, and they had to walk through the drizzle from the NCP multistorey. Thunder was brewing overhead, and the shops were busy as people sought shelter.
“What would you have done if I’d said no?” Gabriel asked as they dodged around prams and scooters.
“Got a new one for myself. Got to add Gabby’s name to my list.”
“You still haven’t done that?”
“Been too bloody busy. After you.”
Gabriel was waved into a small tattoo parlour that he recognised. He’d had his nipple pierced here. He smiled at the piercing guy, Tommy, but let Kevin guide him into the back to a woman with green hair and a lot of ink.
“Oh, hey, Kevin! This your boyfriend?”
“Yup.”
“We doing your ankle today, hun?”
“Sure.”
They played around for a while getting the positions right. Gabriel opted for his left ankle, and while Nat stencilled the design in place, he brought up a map of the Barnsley section of the Trans Pennine trail and sketched it out on a scrap piece of paper. Why not go the whole hog?
“You sure, hun?” Nat said when he asked her to add the trail and the rune. “It’s gonna be a painful session for you, all these sensitive bits at once.”
“I’m used to a bit of pain.”
“Well, okay, sweetie.”
He looked down at his foot. The Trans Pennine trail snaking its way up the side of the arch. Kevin’s chain and padlock around his ankle. And Aled’s charm in pride of place on the top of his foot, right over all the sensitive nerves that Gabriel liked to have stroked in the middle of a post-coital cuddle.
Oh, yeah.
This was going to hurt.
* * * *
Aled came to pick him up from Kevin’s.
After an excruciating four hours in the tattoo parlour, Kevin had taken Gabriel home for some of Judith’s special carbonara. He’d eaten in the lounge with his swollen foot up on a stool, the girls clamouring for tattoos of their own. So by the time Aled arrived from work, Gabriel was cuddling the baby on his knee while Judith patiently applied stick-on tattoos of stars and unicorns to her other two daughters. Kevin the con artist had opted to do the dishes instead.
“Hey,” Aled said, appearing in the living room doorway. “You ready to get gone?”
“I don’t know,” Gabriel said with a grin. “Someone else needs to hold the baby.”
“Not it,” Aled deadpanned. “How did the tattoo go?”
“Hurt like a—like hell, but it looks great.”
Aled raised his eyebrows at the crud-soaked clingfilm around Gabriel’s foot.
“It’ll look great when that comes off, trust me.”
“When’s that?”
“When we get home,” Gabriel said. “And then Kevin says I should probably wear an old sock to bed, or I’ll ruin the sheets.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Aled quipped. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
Kevin came to take the baby, who immediately started whimpering. Gabriel decided to bail quickly, doling out rapid kisses to the other two and a hug for Judith before heading for the door.
“Call me and let me know how it is in the morning,” Kevin called, bouncing his youngest in both arms. “Come on, you. What’s all that for, eh? He’s not your old man.”
The whimpering dialled up into a scream, and Gabriel hastily shut the door on it, limping out to the car.
“What bit Gabby?” Aled asked.
“It’s nearly dinner time,” Gabriel replied, sinking into the passenger seat. “God, that’s better. Hey, guess what.”
“What?”
“You and Chris are on my foot too.”
Aled snorted. “Right…”
“No, you are! I got the first route I ever did with Chris tattooed up the side of my foot. And then the rune you gave me at Suze’s wedding on the top. And then Kevin is the padlock and chain.”
Aled eyed the gunky foot.
“Show me later,” he said. “When it looks decent. Or better yet, show me tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because you’re on a red day,” he replied as he started the engine, “and if you think I’m not going to want to fuck you after seeing that charm permanently inked on your skin, then you’re not as clever as I thought you were.”
Gabriel smirked, sinking low in his seat as they headed for home.
“Well,” he said. “Maybe I’m on
a yellow day now…”
“No dice,” Aled said. “Tomorrow morning, and it won’t be the foot that’s making you walk funny.”
Gabriel crossed his fingers and made a mental note to call in sick for work.
Chapter Eighteen
The train rattled into St Ives’ tiny station, and the driver—rather pointlessly—informed them that it was the end of the line.
Thankfully, the wet weather in Somerset hadn’t reached Cornwall. Chris stepped down onto a platform bathed in warm sun, and his anxiety eased a fraction. At least his CVs wouldn’t get ruined before he could hand them out.
Chris hated job-hunting. It never came naturally to him—talking to strangers was something he avoided whenever possible—and the fluffy responses didn’t help. Were they hiring, yes or no. Would they actually call, yes or no. He hated the dithering lack of response that most places gave.
But, not knowing anyone in St Ives, he couldn’t exactly go asking his mates for work. So he squared his shoulders and set off into the town.
He’d been organised for once. He’d written three different CVs and split them into three different folders—one for retail, one for food and one for manual labour. A job was a job. He’d take whatever was going, and switch to something better once he’d settled in and gathered some contacts to let him jump ship.
Food went first—his favourite option, and the one he’d put the most effort into. Bakeries, pubs, cafes, whatever. St Ives was full of eateries, from boutique ice cream shops to independent cafes from the 1970s with chequered tablecloths. Chris dropped off nearly every CV somewhere different before he moved on to the dreaded retail folder.
By lunchtime, he’d covered most of the town and set up shop in a corner of one of the busier cafes with a local paper, circling the job ads in the back. As he’d expected, St Ives relied on a lot of seasonal work. But he imagined it would suffer from the same problem as most places—a lot of lazy Brits unwilling to do the heavy lifting. And by the ads, he was right. There were plenty of manual labour jobs going, and several local farms wanting help ready for the harvest season. He made a mental note to add getting a driving licence to his long-term plans.