Eighteen Years
by Edward Kyle Stokes
Chapter 12
Eau Sauvage and a Nightcap.
The following week Harry was working behind the bar of The Red Lion when one of the customers, not anyone he knew, leant over to make a request, not to order a drink. The guy was probably twenty something, fit, well built, close cropped hair and smelt of eau savage which wafted over the counter.
"Can you get me that guy's number?" he asked, indicating Callum who was serving at the other end of the bar.
Harry was surprised, it was the first time anyone had made that kind of advance. "I'm not a dating agency," he replied, smiling.
The guy let out a low, appreciative chuckle, not looking remotely deterred by Harry's response. He leaned a little closer, resting a muscular forearm on the polished wood of the bar, the crisp, citrusy scent of his Eau Sauvage cutting cleanly through the heavy pub smell of beer and sweat.
"Fair enough," the guy replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners with an easy, confident charm. "But look at him. He's doing the work of three men over there and still looks like he belongs on the pages of a magazine. I'm just trying to save myself the embarrassment of getting shot down in front of a full pub."
Harry glanced down the bar. Callum was in his element, expertly pouring a Guinness with one hand while snapping the cap off a bottle with the other, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being watched. He looked rugged, focused, and undeniably handsome in his fitted bar shirt.
"Tell you what," Harry said, leaning in slightly with a smirk. "I won't give you his number, because he'd probably throw a cocktail shaker at my head. But I will give you a bit of insider trading."
The guy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "I'm listening."
"He's single, he's moving to Edinburgh in September to finish his degree, and his name is Callum," Harry whispered, keeping his tone light and conspiratorial. "And if you want to get his attention, don't order a pint of lager. Ask him for a smoky single malt, neat. It's his weakness."
The guy's smile widened into a genuine grin. He tapped his knuckles against the bar in a gesture of appreciation. "Callum. Edinburgh. Single malt. Got it. Thanks for the tip, mate."
"Good luck," Harry chuckled, wiping down the counter as the guy straightened up.
Harry watched with a quiet sense of amusement as the customer smoothly navigated his way down to the far end of the crowded bar, right into Callum's station. When Callum finally turned around, wiping his hands on a tea towel to take the next order, the guy caught his eye, flashed a confident smile, and gave his order.
From across the room, Harry caught the exact moment Callum's professional 'barman face' faltered, replaced by a sudden, slightly flustered blink as he registered the guy's intense, focused attention. Harry couldn't help but grin to himself, feeling a surge of affection for his mate. After all the heavy, tragic drama of the last few weeks, it was exactly the kind of bright, uncomplicated distraction Callum deserved before his big move.
The cool night air was a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the crowded pub. Harry pulled his jacket on as he stepped out into the alley, Callum right by his side, loosening the collar of his shirt with a tired but content sigh.
"Decent shift," Callum muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Though I think my feet are actually vibrating."
"You did well, mate," Harry grinned, nudging his shoulder. "Especially with that smoky single malt order."
Before Callum could ask what he meant, a figure stepped out from the shadow of the brick wall under the streetlamp. It was Matt. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of a well-fitted leather jacket, that faint, sophisticated scent of Eau Sauvage drifting over to them once again on the midnight breeze.
"Hey," Matt said, his gaze locking instantly onto Callum with that same confident, easy smile. "Thought I'd wait out here. See if you wanted to grab a drink somewhere that doesn't involve you standing on the wrong side of the bar."
Callum stopped, completely caught off guard, a sudden heat creeping up his neck. He looked at Matt, then glanced at Harry, who was currently biting his lip to keep from bursting into a massive smirk.
"I... well, everywhere else is closed by now," Callum said, a rare, slightly shy smile breaking across his face. "But we were just heading back to our flat. We could have a nightcap there, if you want to join us?"
"I'd love to," Matt said without hesitation, stepping into stride beside them as they began the short walk through the quiet streets of Chester.
The walk was easy. Matt was incredibly charismatic, effortlessly striking up a conversation about the pub, the local rugby team, and Callum's upcoming move to Edinburgh. He was completely focused on Callum, though he politely included Harry in the banter, clearly assuming Harry was just the wingman or a close mate from work.
When they finally climbed the stairs and reached the front door of the flat, Harry casually reached into his pocket, fished out his keyring, and unlocked the door, pushing it open.
Matt froze on the threshold, looking between Harry, the keys, and Callum. His confident expression suddenly faltered, dropping into absolute mortification as a horrifying realisation seemed to dawn on him.
"Oh, shit," Matt muttered, taking a half-step back, looking completely lost. "Are you two... boyfriends? Did I just entirely misread the room?"
Harry paused, looking at Matt's panicked face, and then looked at Callum. For a second, the temptation was too much. But as Callum shot him a warning glare, Harry couldn't hold it in anymore and let out a bright, echoing laugh.
"Actually..." Harry chuckled, waving his hand to defuse the panic. "Just a little joke. No, we are definitely not boyfriends. We share a flat, that's all. My boyfriend is... well, he's away in Wales at the moment. You're completely safe."
Matt let out a massive, theatrical sigh of relief, rubbing the back of his neck as his confident grin returned. "Jesus, mate, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought I had got it all completely wrong."
"Not at all," Callum laughed, guiding Matt inside and closing the door behind them. "Come on in."
They gathered in the cozy kitchen, the atmosphere light and relaxed. Callum poured three glasses of whiskey, and the three of them sat around the table, the conversation flowing easily. Matt told them about his job in advertising, Harry shared a few harmless, embarrassing stories about Callum and work at the pub, and Callum seemed more relaxed than he had in weeks, his eyes bright as he chatted with Matt.
After about twenty minutes, Harry drained the last of his glass and stood up, stretching his arms over his head.
"Right, you two," Harry said, giving Callum a knowing, supportive wink that Matt couldn't see. "I've got an early start tomorrow, so I'm going to retire to my bedroom and leave you to it. Good to meet you, Matt."
"Good to meet you too, Harry. Thanks for the... hospitality," Matt smiled warmly.
"Night, Harry," Callum said, his voice full of a quiet, grateful affection.
As Harry walked down the hallway to his room and shut the door, the muffled sound of low, intimate laughter drifted from the kitchen. Harry smiled to himself in the dark, incredibly happy to see his best mate finally moving forward, finding a little bit of light and happiness before the summer was over.
The door to Callum's bedroom clicked shut, instantly sealing out the rest of the flat and leaving them in the quiet intimacy of the room. Matt didn't waste any time. He stepped into Callum's space, his confident gaze softening into something intense and focused.
"I've been watching you all night," Matt confessed softly, his voice low and raspy. "I really fancy you, Callum. Right since I walked into the pub."
The confession acted like a spark. In no time at all, the tension that had been building between them since the bar erupted. Clothes were shed in a hurried, passionate blur, thrown onto the nearby chair. Callum stood completely naked, his body flushed and obviously very excited by the sudden, intense attention. Matt stripped down until he was standing in just his black, tight-fitting boxers, which did nothing to hide a very noticeable, large bulge.
Callum sank to his knees on the carpet, his chest heaving as he looked up at Matt. He reached out, his hands gripping the waistband of the black boxers and sliding them down Matt's muscular legs, releasing his thick, proud manhood. Without hesitation, Callum leant forward, taking Matt into his mouth, his lips and tongue wrapping around the warmth of the erection as Matt let out a low, guttural groan, his fingers tangling in Callum's hair.
After a few intense moments, Matt gently gripped Callum's shoulders, pulling him back up to his feet. He guided Callum backwards until the back of Callum's knees hit the edge of the mattress, and they tumbled onto the sheets.
As Callum lay there, looking up, he couldn't help thinking how incredibly long it had been since anything like this had happened to him—how long he had spent hiding his own desires behind the happiness of Harry and Aled.
Matt positioned himself over Callum, shifting his weight between Callum's thighs. Their eyes locked in the dim light of the bedroom, heavy with anticipation.
"I want to..." Matt breathed sexily, his chest pressing against Callum's.
"Yeah, do it," Callum panted, his hands gripping Matt's hips. "Yes..."
Matt pushed Callum's legs back and wide, opening him up completely. Positioned like a lance, strong and proud, Matt aligned his slick erection and pushed forward, entering Callum in one smooth, deliberate motion. Callum gasped loudly, his eyes widening as his body adjusted to the sudden, stretching fullness of Matt inside him.
Matt paused for a moment, letting Callum adjust, before he began to move. The lovemaking was intense and rhythmic, the creak of the bedframe and their soft murmuring the only sounds against the quiet apartment. Callum arched into every thrust, his hands moving wildly over the smooth, defined muscles of Matt's back and shoulders, finding a profound sense of release and validation in the physical connection. They moved together with an uninhibited passion, their breathing heavy and synchronised in the darkness.
When the climax finally took them, it was fierce and shattering, leaving them both breathless and spent against the pillows.
Afterward, the frantic energy of the night dissolved into a peaceful stillness. Matt pulled the duvet up over their cooling skin, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arms tightly around Callum, pulling him flush against his chest. Callum leaned back into the embrace, his head tucked under Matt's chin, feeling completely satisfied and warm. Listening to the steady, calming beat of Matt's heart, Callum finally closed his eyes, falling into a deep, contented sleep in each other's arms.
The delicious aroma of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee drifted through the flat the next morning, casting a bright, easy mood over the kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the window, catching the hazy columns of steam rising from the kettle.
Harry was already at the stove, deftly flipping eggs in a frying pan, when the door to Callum's bedroom opened. Callum stepped out, wearing a pair of soft grey joggers and a relaxed, thoroughly contented smile. A moment later, Matt followed, his hair a bit rumpled from sleep, looking incredibly comfortable as he pulled on a fresh t-shirt.
"Morning, gents," Harry called out cheerfully, not missing a beat. "Grab a chair. Breakfast is served!"
The three of them gathered around the small wooden kitchen table, digging into a mountain of toast, eggs, and bacon. The initial morning-after awkwardness evaporated instantly, replaced by a relaxed, easy flow of conversation. Matt fitted right into the dynamic, laughing at Harry's terrible jokes and playfully nudging Callum's shoulder as they talked about the previous night. Callum looked lighter than he had in weeks, the quiet reserve he usually carried completely melted away.
As Harry poured fresh coffee into three mismatched mugs, he looked between Callum's bright expression and Matt's comfortable, confident presence at their table. A mischievous glint sparked in Harry's eye. He leant his elbows on the table, flashing a wicked grin, and looked directly at Matt.
"So, Matt," Harry joked, gesturing casually around the kitchen with his coffee mug. "When are you moving in? We've got room for a third person with my boyfriend off in Wales."
Callum instantly choked on his sip of coffee, coughing into his napkin while his face turned a brilliant shade of crimson. "Harry, oh my god, shut up!" he spluttered, kicking Harry's shin under the table.
Matt, however, threw his head back and let out a booming, delighted laugh, completely unfazed. He leaned into Callum's side, throwing a casual arm over the back of Callum's chair. "Honestly, Harry? Keep feeding me breakfasts like this, and I might just sign up today. Though I think Callum's heart might not survive the shock."
"He'd manage," Harry laughed, dodging another kick from Callum. "He's tougher than he looks."
The shared laughter echoed warmly through the flat, a bright and happy contrast to the heavy weeks that had passed. Sitting together in the morning sun, eating breakfast and trading banter, it felt like the perfect start to a summer that was finally beginning to look a whole lot brighter.
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