horseboykarl: (karl hurt)
Things are starting to get lighter, but the sun hasn’t come up yet when I park the truck in front of Eric’s house. I’m so fucking knackered I can hardly see straight and all I want to do is crawl into bed with him and let his gentle warmth soothe me. The night was long, and frightening, and showed me things about myself that I hadn’t really wanted to know. Gúthwinë is well hidden behind the backseat and Dr. Fisher cleaned up my cuts so I don’t look like a bloody mess anymore. He’s gonna go spare when he sees the cast on my arm, but once he hears the news I’m about to give him I hope it will make it all worth it. Those fuckers will never bother him again.

I walk around to the back where there’s a light in the kitchen and I realise Drew must be up already. I knock softly on the door and then step back so he can see me. He lets me in, his eyes wide at the sight of my injuries.

“It’s a long story.” I try to smile, but I’m afraid my face isn’t working quite right. “I just need some sleep first.”

“He’s still in bed.” He glowers at me. “He spent most of the night worrying about you.”

“I know,” I sigh, while edging toward the stairs. “I’ll tell him everything later.”

Drew lets me go without any more argument and I creep into Eric’s room, shedding my kit quickly and sliding under the covers. His bed isn’t as big as mine and I know I shouldn’t be here, but I desperately need to be near him now, to know that all the hell that went on last night was worth it.

Finding a comfortable position for my hand, I fall asleep quickly. )
horseboykarl: (karl sad)
Éomer: As soon as Théo is on the bike and away, I call for Karl, worried now that it is time for him to come back. I hope that we did not cause difficulties for him. Karl

Karl: Éomer sounds more anxious than usual when he calls me to come back. Karl, Eric was here last night. He saw us. I freeze at that news, my heart hammering. "What happened?"

He was spying on us, and Théo captured him. I curse and he hastens to reassure me. We did not harm him, but I introduced myself to him. I thought it would be all right, knowing that your aunt knows who I am. His mental tone is miserable and I swallow the shout that is gathering in my throat. "Was it?"

I do not know if he believed us, but he was calmer when he left here. I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. This really isn't his fault, he couldn't have known that I still haven't told my lover the truth. Much as I want to blame him for it, I can't.

He eases away and I grab my helmet and keys, running back to get my cell phone. I try to reach him, but he's not picking up. He's probably still at the store at this hour, knowing I wasn't supposed to get back until later. As I lean my bike into the curves, I try to think of a way to explain why I've been lying and to explain what the truth actually is, when I don't understand it half the time. Shit, he's had a whole day to think about it, to get madder at me.

I wish Éomer would have called me last night . . . )

Comfort

Jun. 21st, 2005 03:34 pm
horseboykarl: (celebration)
The fire has died down to a soft glow while the rain whips against the windows. Eric’s house is drafty but he insists that it is too old to properly insulate. I think he likes it that way. We’re on the floor where he’s piled several rugs as his adaptation to winter time. He’s leaning back against my chest, reading Swann’s Way out loud. That has to be the most boring book on the whole fucking planet, but I ignore the story and concentrate on the soothing rising and falling cadence of his voice. My fingers shift slowly through his long hair, and the crisp texture of it fascinates me. My wine glass is empty and I think lazily that I should get up and refill both glasses, but I’m too bloody comfortable.

I never thought that I’d be listening to Proust and drinking wine. Maybe Dave was right and Eric is civilizing me. I shift him against me drowsily, not really caring, my eyes closing as things go fuzzy around the edges.

Best Ever

Jun. 7th, 2005 04:21 pm
horseboykarl: (celebration)
New Zealand unfolds below me, rumpled and spotted, and I'm thinking of so many things. It was good to see Harry again, but I think I'm still picking latex out of weird places. No wonder John had so much trouble with Gimli's make-up. Having spent a week buried in prosthetics up to my eyeballs, I can sympathize. I had fun playing a deranged person, and I worked out some lingering insanity of my own. After talking to Hugo, who encouraged me to live my life, and not let the possibility of a shift ruin things that I really want to do, I called Harry to say I'd do it. I owe that man my career pretty much, so there's not a lot I won't do for him.

It's also a day to think about the things I really want to do. I'm thirty-three today. )

Falling

May. 23rd, 2005 07:17 pm
horseboykarl: (karl 1)
The bookstore is cozy, a warm and comfortable place to be in the chilly fall afternoon. I’ve taken my usual spot against the side wall with my coffee and a novel, in a deep comfortable chair. This has started to become a habit of mine, putter around the house in the mornings, then spend the rest of the day here, relaxing with a book, Eric stopping by my post every so often for a quick caress or a kiss, which leaves me nearly purring. I’m getting a lot of reading done, so I could tell myself that I do it because I’m improving my mind, but I’d be lying. I come here for the warmth that the gentle owner of the place gives off.

Today he goes so far to alight on my lap for a moment and my hands settle into place around his waist, our bodies conforming to each other easily. He glances at my helmet, sitting on the floor beside my chair.

“It’s getting pretty cold, when are you going to stop riding the bike?” )
horseboykarl: (Default)
By the time the sun gets fully up and warms the chill air, I’ve ditched my shoes, enjoying the feel of the rich dirt of the farm between my toes. Eric just shakes his head, having gotten used to my aversion to shoes. We’re tying vines to the their trellises, an extremely boring job, but by the time the morning is half over, we’ve fallen into a rhythm with it. He stretches the vine along the wire, I wrap the twine, tie it off and cut the ends.

“Told you she’d make you work.”

He snickers. “I was scared to say no.”

“Right, mate, totally understand. She’s scary, all right.”

“What’s she calling her wines anyway?” )

NC-17
horseboykarl: (karl calm)
Aunt June is waiting for us on the porch as I pull the truck into the yard. I’ve brought everybody this time, towing Smokey in the trailer and Ire is in his travel kennel. But most especially I’ve brought Eric to meet June and see the farm. We’ve got a week this time, Eric’s brother is watching his store. I told Éomer when he shifted the last time and just to be sure the message got through, I called Paris to tell him that the horseboys can do without each other for a week. Smokey Joe could use a long run instead of a trot around the pasture and Eric doesn’t take enough time off. I know it’s hard to take vacations when you run your own business, but the man seriously needs some down time.

He gets distracted by her library, )
horseboykarl: (karl close)
“Hey, you want to go out tonight, have some pub-grub and some beers?”

“No place particular, but I have a bartender connection, he’ll keep our mugs full.”

I laugh. “No, you’ve actually seen him before. Remember the band we saw the night we first kissed? That’s him.”

“I’ll never forget that night either. So . . . how’s it sound? Just kick back tonight.”

“Okay, did you drive in? I can pick you up when the shop closes.”

“All right, see you soon.” I hang up the phone and step in the shower. This will be good, I can introduce Eric to Gareth, who is as normal as they come around here. Maybe then Eric can see that not all my friends are intimidating, some are just regular Irish lads trying to make a go of life, just like everyone else. Hopefully, if he settles down, I can gradually have him meet my other friends. We’ll just take this slow.

Finally ready to go, I strap my spare helmet to the bike and head into town, getting to Moby Dickens right at closing time. Eric has the worst time shooing the last browser out of the store, so it always seems to stay open later than he plans. But tonight he’s on a mission and he’s locking up when I park the bike.

“Ready to relax?” He looks a little bushed as I wrap him up in a hug.

“Few cold ones would go down well right about now.” He kisses me hello, pulling me against him.

“We don’t have to go out . . . if you’re too tired . . . “ I leer at him.

“No, going out sounds good. Besides, you’re just trying to get me to cook,” he teases.

“Ah, you’re on to me! It’s your culinary skills I’m after, not your hot body.”

“Come on, you big idiot. Let’s go.”

I grin at him. “Let’s not make it too late, I know you’re tired. And I’ll give you a patented Urban massage when we get home.”

“Can’t refuse that kind of offer, now can I?”

We pull into the lot at the Firkin a little while later. Gareth is busy juggling glasses at the taps . . . the place is pretty crowded. We sit at the bar and he nods when he sees me.
horseboykarl: (karl close)
The late morning sun slants golden light across the end of Eric’s bed. He’s made an excellent breakfast of crepes and fruit and papaya juice, which tastes even better when eaten in bed. We’re still lazing around afterwards debating what to do with the rest of our day.

“Hmm, it’s Sunday, right?”

“Yes, and what does that mean? You look like you’re planning something.”

I smirk at him. )
horseboykarl: (karl calm)
“Now Ben is the sommelier at the most expensive restaurant in Wellington, the Silver Fox and he’s agreed to open up his cellar for you today. They’re closed on Mondays.”

Eric is talking non-stop, a sort of nervous chatter. I’m not sure if he’s worried about me impressing his friend or the other way around. I’m just grateful that this Ben person has agreed to give me some pointers on wine tasting, since I know next to nothing about it. Aunt June is pressing ahead with her plans and the sheep are already gone. She has her workers plowing her fields and running trellises for the vines. She and I have been arguing about what type of grapes plant and hopefully the lessons today will help me make up my mind.

“He travels all over the world, doing tastings and buying vintages. He just got back from South Africa.” )
horseboykarl: (karl sad)
I laze around in bed like a contented cat, watching the morning sunlight play over the floor, feeling absurdly pleased with myself. Eric is coming over later and we have the whole day to play. Maybe we’ll hit the beach and then he’ll come back here for dinner and maybe . . . Well, I don’t know, but after I shower, I make sure there are fresh sheets on the bed. I poke through the refrigerator and I realize I need to pick up a few things before he gets here, besides, shopping will be a good distraction until he arrives.

I’m getting into the truck when my cell phone goes off. Eric. I flip it open, “Hey you!”

But his voice stops me cold. “I’m sorry Karl, there’s been a break in at the store, they trashed it. I can’t make it over there today.”

“What? What happened?” )
horseboykarl: (Karl loves NZ)
Sunday again, the only day off Eric has in the week, and we are spending the day together. )
horseboykarl: (Default)
I debate whether to take the bike or the truck. Bike is definitely sexier, but I’m not sure that we’ve moved along to the place where either of us wants to ride with him holding on to me. The truck is . . . . not sexy. But it’s safe, if a bit messy, so after Dave leaves I spend some time sprucing it up, not wanting to be totally embarrassed by my ride.

is that something you would like? )
horseboykarl: (karl calm)
It’s been two days since I talked to Gareth and when I get out of bed, I decide to do something about a “possibility.” The first thing I did when I woke up yesterday afternoon was to send out a tentative call to horseboy, not really trying very hard, so I wasn’t surprised when nothing happened. I’ve never tried to call him when someone wasn’t holding something over me. But . . . it looks like things are clear and maybe I can have my life back. So I went to Pete’s and reclaimed Éomer’s sword and his helm, Pete doesn’t ask and I can’t tell him that my former craziness has disappeared for some reason.

I go for a run with Smokey Joe and Ire, uncomfortably aware that I’m stalling. Finally I shower and head for Cuba Street. I park the bike and walk to the bookstore, Moby Dickens. I pause by the display window . . . it’s changed. The kids aren’t lying on the floor, they’re sitting with the grandfather and he’s reading to them on the couch. There’s another couch with a young couple tangled up, the girl reading to the boy. Whoever does these is bloody creative.

a possibility )
horseboykarl: (karl calm)
After Bernard finally knocked some sense into me, I looked around at my life and was disgusted. The house is beyond messy and I think I should just get a shovel to clear it out. I start with the kitchen and by the time I have it set to rights, I can't deal with any more housework.

Remembering some of the other things Bernard said, I decide to do some research. I have been thinking I've gone crazy, but what if I haven't? I'm not sure if that would be a relief or not, would mean that the world at large is crazy and I'd almost rather it was just me.

I'll trot into Wellie and visit one of the bookshops over on Cuba street. They get a lot of traffic from the university, so one of them will certainly have what I need. I get the bike, thinking that it's time I started enjoying life's simple pleasures again.

I park the bike and stroll down the street, peering at the windows. Finally, I come to one, Moby Dickens, cute name, but the display catches my eye. It's a series of manikins, lying about on the floor and on a couch, holding books, all reading. Cozy. All right, you hooked me. )

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February 2011

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