“Morning.” Brix shifted closer, pressing against Calum’s thigh in the hope that he took his not-so-subtle hint.
Calum did, pulling Brix on top of him and driving his morning wood against Brix’s belly. “Were you lying in wait for me?”
“Aye. You game?”
“Always.”
It was all Brix needed to hear. He kissed Calum just once, then flipped him over, nudging Calum’s legs apart with his knees, like he did almost every morning they had the time and energy to fuck. Calum arched his back and raised his hips, facedown in the pillows now, ready and waiting. Brix growled and sunk his teeth lightly into his back, then reached for the condoms with only a fleeting beat of doubt—something that, with a lot of practice, he’d become much better at.
It seemed like he’d barely blinked before he was pushing inside Calum, cautiously at first, but then fucking him hard and fast, hot and dirty, like mornings were made for. They both came quickly, Calum, then Brix, and after, Brix lay over Calum for a protracted moment, before he kissed his neck and slid off him, landing in a clumsy, sweaty heap.
Calum chuckled and rolled onto his back. “I love it when you jump on me first thing in the morning. Sets me up for the day.”
Brix sniggered. “Yeah? Don’t make you walk funny?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Good job too today, eh? Gotta be on my game for the chicken run.”
Brix was glad Calum didn’t let the conversation linger on sex. It had been six months since Calum had held Brix’s face—and his heart—in his hands and chased off the shadows that had lived with Brix for so long, and since then they’d fucked in every which way possible, but hashing their emotions out over and over had proved counterproductive. Brix was at peace with his HIV status, and Calum proved every day that he was too. With science on their side—at least for now—and Calum as safe as he could be from infection, nothing else seemed to matter.
Besides, old ghosts be damned, they had shit to do today, important shit, and as wonderful as lying in bed with Calum was, it was time to get up. Brix kissed Calum’s cheek and reached across him for the wooden box Calum had given him to replace the washbag he’d kept his meds in—a treasure chest with a skull and crossbones painted on the lid. The irony had been just the kind of gallows humour Brix had missed while he’d carried his secret alone.
He swallowed his pills, then dragged Calum downstairs and passed him a frying pan. “You cook, I’ll feed the menagerie?”
Calum shrugged. “Suits me.”
They hit the road after a big breakfast of Calum’s signature scrambled eggs with fresh herbs from the garden and leftover sourdough. Calum drove while Brix kicked back in the passenger seat, his feet up on the dashboard. “Thank you for coming with me. I used to take my dad, but he couldn’t behave.”
Calum smiled, his eyes trained on the winding Cornish road. “You keep telling me stuff like that about your dad, but he seems like the nicest bloke in the world.”
“He’s mellowing in his old age.”
“Really?”
Brix snorted. “Not in the slightest, he just likes you too much to show you the crazy old man who punches farmers for the sake of a van full of battery hens.”
“You wouldn’t do that?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
And Calum didn’t have long to wait. The farm taking their chickens to slaughter that morning was in Redruth, thirty miles from Porthkennack and an hour later, Calum manoeuvred the van up the narrow lane that led to the huge barn holding the hens. At first glance, the operation didn’t look that bad—well-kept and tidy, with the right amount of finishing touches to make the farm appear homely.
But Brix knew better. This farm was one of the worst he’d ever been to, and he could only hope that Calum never saw the horrors that lay behind the rustic barn’s walls.
Calum parked up and turned off the engine. “What happens now? Do we go in?”
“God, no.” Brix shuddered. “They’ll bring them out.”
“How many are we taking?”
“As many as we can fit in the van.”
“Fair enough. Is that the dude?”
Calum pointed through Brix’s window as the farmer emerged from the barn, dragging a handful of chickens by their legs, their heads scraping the ground.
“What the fuck?” Calum opened his door.
Brix grabbed his arm. “Be cool. Kicking off just makes it take longer.”