Page 7

Macsen

I woke up in the morning in the knowledge I had been an absolute prick the night before. He deserved it , said my ever-helpful brain. Perhaps. He shouldn’t have had the gall to hold him being my landlord over my head. He shouldn’t have imposed himself on me like that.

But…we in Hiraeth had a tradition of helping people.

And I’d been pretty reluctant to continue that tradition where Hywel was involved.

Perhaps I’d been harsh on him to start with.

So long as he could stay out of my way and not burden me in my own home we could live semi-comfortably with one another.

As soon as I left my room, that illusion was shattered a little.

Hywel was in my kitchen, having boiled the kettle and put two cups of tea aside.

That in itself was fine. What wasn’t fine was him having the audacity to have cleaned the kitchen worktops over and scrubbed at the dishes.

They were drying in a rack and he was now polishing off the sink.

Hywel looked up at me with a smile. “Good morning, how are you?”

“Fine,” I muttered. Without saying another word I turned around and went into the bathroom.

I turned on the shower, stripped off and let warm water run over me until it sputtered.

The old heating tank in the attic struggled to contain enough hot water for a whole shower.

It would take hours before it was hot enough for a shower again.

I pulled my towel from the rack, noticing for the first time that Hywel had put his alongside mine - it was fluffy and felt expensive.

I looked to the sink and sure enough there was a fancy electric toothbrush next to my rattier one.

At the bottom of the shower tray next to the 3-in-1 shower gel I used were 3 new bottles of smelly stuff.

This man was feeling more and more like an imposition on my way of life. And it had only been two nights.

I didn’t even look over at him in the kitchen when I left the bathroom. I went straight into the bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and vest and then pulled my overalls over them.

Not that I objected to getting this place cleaned up.

God knows I wanted to when I had the time, but it was more the implication that I was messy.

Like the same old Hywel from however long ago was still judging me based on not being as good as him.

I bet his classy penthouse flat in London was sparkling.

“Toast?” he asked, holding out a plate. “Thanks,” I said. I took the plate before adding pettily, “So when are you leaving for the day?”

“Not today,” said Hywel with a smile that I noticed for the first time didn’t really reach his eyes. “Got some prep work to do on the laptop so I’ll base myself here.”

“And what is it exactly you’re doing here?” I asked.

“Stuff…y’know, things. I’m just here to check on my portfolio in the village. Make sure everyone is happy.” Hywel shifted from one foot to the other. He was hiding something.

“And am I?” I asked. I could feel the sly smile creeping across my face as he floundered.

“Sorry?” he said.

“Am I happy? You’re my landlord, you’re sleeping on my sofa. Surely I’d be the first person you asked.”

“Yes…quite. All in good time.” Hywel snatched the plate back and started scrubbing at it over the sink.

He was hiding something, and I was determined to find out what.

Why not just say he was here to see Prentis?

And what kind of rush caused him to come here telling no one to expect him, or book a hotel?

He might have thought I was stupid but there was more to me than that.

“I’m off to work,” I said. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

◆◆◆

It had been a busy day. I had three MOTs and services to do on regular cars and an old client from Powys had driven his 1956 Bentley in for a service.

It was a beauty of a car in stunning silver.

I loved getting to work on these old beauties and was glad that I’d developed enough of a reputation to keep them coming from far and wide.

It wasn’t until about 6pm when my stomach was rumbling and I’d sent the last MOT on its merry way that I had time to sit down at the old computer at the back of the workshop and look at replacement parts for the Aston Martin.

They were relatively inexpensive considering the calibre of the car because demand was so low, and I knew I could fix up some panels rather than having to replace them completely.

I turned on the lights inside as the sun had set a while before and it was getting dark.

A plan had been formulating in my mind, one I wasn’t particularly proud of, but one that would benefit me immensely.

Hywel had said he would be staying until Christmas, and he’d take off a month’s rent for that.

But he’d also said he would take off rent for however long it took to fix the car.

So if I had it fixed this week? That was five weeks or so of rent for free.

Great. And the fixes would be relatively easy, maybe 2 or 3 days of solid work.

But things were busy, and time was short…

I spent a while looking online for the parts I needed - one door panel to replace the punctured one, a new bumper, wheel rims and potentially new hubcaps.

I could order them from Europe and have them at the garage in a week, or I could order them from China, save me some money…

and have them here the week before Christmas.

Saving money on the parts and adding an extra 2 weeks to my rent-free period.

I clicked and ordered from China. Because why the fuck not?

Despite my stomach rumbles, I was avoiding the flat. I knew why. It was because I still didn’t know how I felt about my privacy being invaded just weeks after I’d gotten it.

I started work on sanding the paint from the side of the Aston Martin. I hoped the paint I’d ordered would be a match, or I would have to repaint the whole thing and that would be a shame as the whole thing other than the one busted side had been maintained beautifully.

There was a gentle knock on the half-lowered shutters. “Can I come in?” called Hywel.

“Sure,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. I carried on sanding at the metal by the headlight. Somehow the glass hadn’t smashed despite the metal crumpling around it. “Got James Bond’s Aston Martin here,” I said. “Seems to have bulletproof glass.”

Hywel chuckled and set a plate down next to me. “I don’t know if you had a fridge down here but I didn’t want you going hungry. It’s late.”

“Thank you,” I said. It looked like he had raided my cupboards for pasta and pesto.

Other than protein powder, milk and eggs, I didn’t have much more upstairs.

I really had let life take a back seat .

I sat cross-legged on the floor to eat it and Hywel joined me.

He ran one hand over the dull grey of the Aston Martin that had been revealed under the paint.

“I suppose it has to get worse before it gets better. Can I give it a go?” he asked.

I looked at him properly for the first time. Rather than the expensive Armani suit, he was wearing a simple t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. They still looked expensive though.

“Nah, you’ll mess up your clothes,” I said through my last mouthful of pasta. “And it’s an expensive car to mess up.”

“Think I don’t know that?” Hywel said. I realised I’d pissed him off.

“Take this then,” I said. “220 grit sandpaper. Swipe side to side along here-” I pointed at the flattest part of the front panel “- and make sure you’re not encroaching on the bonnet - I want to flatten that out before we even think about repainting it.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Hywel said with a smile. It was hard not to like this version of him. But I did a bloody good job.

I tidied up the garage as Hywel sanded away, humming to himself.

I didn’t know what to make of our newfound situation.

Did I still hate him? Did he still look down on me like he did so many years ago?

The first I knew was no longer true. I might never like the man, but hating him took up too much effort.

He was an inconvenience, and he wasn’t the worst person in the world.

And the second part? I didn’t know how much he was the same person as he was years ago. He had been kind to my face back then too. How did I know he wouldn’t be exactly the same now?

Once I’d finished tidying up my stuff and checked the clock — was it really almost 8 o’clock? I tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped. “That’s enough for one night,” I said. I physically forced myself to continue. “I appreciate the help.”

Hywel held out a hand for me to help him up. I took it. It felt like an electric current passed through our clasped hands as I pulled him up and I could see in his eyes that he felt the same way.

And there was our other problem. He was fucking gorgeous.

I might not be able to hold on to my hate from ten years ago, but I could hold on to the lust. No matter how hard I tried to get rid of it.

And that was another reason to be unhappy with our situation.

I didn’t like the man, but God knew I wanted to get in his pants.

Just as much as I had ten years ago. When I was sixteen, I might have imagined the older successful businessman holding me down and making sweet love to me.

Now though? I wanted to be in control, to make him submit, to have him on all fours and pull his head back with the fancy Armani tie around his neck.

It was with those thoughts in mind that I locked up and followed him up the stairs to the flat, where my mood abruptly dissipated. “Didn’t have much work to do, did you?” I spat.

Obviously, he had found time in the day to clean more than just the kitchen. Every surface shone, and every crooked rug on the wooden floor had been straightened out. I could hear the washing machine rumbling away in the corner.

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t have to do this!” I said.

Hywel looked at me like I’d just spoken German. “Do what?” he asked.

“Make me feel like absolute shit by cleaning up my mess!” I stormed to the fridge and pulled out a beer. Lo-and-behold, he’d even cleaned and organised the meagre contents of my fridge. I pulled off the cap with my teeth.

“…sorry. Wasn’t meant to make you feel like shit. I looked out of the window and thought you looked busy, so I…” Hywel stopped. “No, I’m going for honesty. I’ve been stressed with…work stuff. And when I get stressed, I clean up. Sorry if I overstepped any boundaries.”

I knew he was being reasonable, but that didn’t make things any easier. “Fine,” I said. “Just…you didn’t go in my room, did you?”

“God, no. I don’t care about what I can’t see. I just can’t work in any kind of mess. And If I was imposing on you, I wanted to prove I wasn’t just a lazy housemate. I don’t like being an imposition.”

“Well, you are,” I said. His face fell but then I smiled. “But if it gets me a clean house, I’ll live with it. Beer?”

“I’d kill for one,” Hywel said. I grabbed another one and pulled the cap off with my teeth again.

I noticed him wince. He might not be as bad as I thought but he was still a bit of a snob.

I handed him the beer. I shed my overalls and threw them into the washing basket.

When I turned back to Hywel, I thought he might be looking at my arms. But then he looked away, and I wondered if he’d imagined it.

“Mind if I play on the PS4?” I asked him. I hated to ask in my own home, and a day before I’d have just done it whether he liked it or not.

“Sure.” I walked over to the sofa. Hywel followed me and sat down as I turned on the PlayStation. I pulled out one controller from the drawer, hesitated and then pulled out a second.

“Do you play COD ?” I asked.

“Not since the first Black Ops , I think,” Hywel said. “I was never very good and then when I started Uni I gave up on all that stuff.”

“Come on then,” I said. “Let me whoop your arse at this.”

And I did. It was a slaughter for our first couple of games, without Hywel getting a single kill in on me. The excitement got to me a couple of times and I’d grab his arm in victory before pulling away.

We moved on to a game of Zombies, so that we could play together. Hywel was just as terrible but being on the same team now meant I could at least revive him and help him not be so fucking terrible. We lasted a few waves before we succumbed.

“Fuck’s sake, that’s why I stopped playing.” Hywel looked so dejected that I reached out to hold his hand as if on autopilot.

“Plenty of time to improve,” I said. It might have been the first earnest thing I had said to him.

Hywel’s eyes drifted down to the hand I was holding and then back up to look at me.

We looked into each other’s eyes for what felt like forever until I snapped out of it.

“Right, bedtime for me,” I said. “Busy day tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Course.” Hywel looked almost disappointed, and I knew I had to get out of there before I did something stupid.

I retreated to the bedroom as quickly as I could and stripped out of my vest and jeans, then dropped my pants to the floor. I might have fallen into an uneasy alliance with Hywel but my cock hadn’t gotten the memo. It still wanted him like I was still a lovelorn puppy.

I laid down in my bed and touched myself.

I didn’t know how I wanted Hywel, but I wanted him.

A series of images in my mind helped me get to climax quickly.

Him, pushing into me as I stared deep into his eyes, or me fucking him from behind.

Him laying in between my legs and struggling to take all of my cock in his mouth.

Gagging around it and then me using my hand to push his head down further…

As I came all over my abs, I moaned out loud without realising what I was doing. Having usually lived with housemates or family I was a quiet wanker. But it seemed the image of Hywel was enough to have me let go of that fine self-control.

I cleaned myself up using my boxers as a rag and set my alarm for the morning. Hywel and I were likely to kill each other or fuck each other by the end of the week. Either way, it would help me let off steam.