In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two young men is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. Please remember to help Nifty stay online by sending your contributions. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
REVELATION
by Marin Giustinian
England, Greenland, Scotland, etc. 2019
Revelation is like lightning, a fulguration of total awareness often followed by a kind of daze, dazzles you as suddenly you understand that life can't go on like that any longer.
Some are oblivious to the awakening. Others panic, desperately clinging to their make-believe existences.
Then there are the few that welcome the sudden light. An unknown joy of renewal opens their eyes, invades their hearts as they let happen what may, opening their arms to an unknown future.
Lightning strikes when opposite electrical poles connect. Revelations do the same, connecting opposite souls, setting them afire, enlightening them with purpose and lust -- together.
Mark Sutherland, at the age of thirty, was already a famous cellist, one of the best known since Pablo Casals or Mstislav Rostropovitch. Not only was he a prodigious musician, but also a well known ecological activist, taking stand wherever he could for the protection of nature. Whenever he could, he took his backpack and small tent, packed some food, and escaped into nature, taking long hikes wherever a train could carry him out of London.
Mark's next album was going to be dedicated to the endangered icecap of Greenland. Dan Riley, Mark's friend and agent, decided that the video clip should be done on location. Mark must record and be filmed for the video clip in Greenland.
Mark recorded with Corydon Records, the most exclusive label in classical and contemporary music in the UK. Corydon never streamed their releases on Apple Music or Spotify. To hear their production, it had to be bought. Dan had no problem convincing Paul Hollingsworth, the director of the company, to finance the Greenland adventure.
"Paul, I want you to get the picture. Can't you just see a fabulously beautiful old sailing vessel, an antique cello, a fragile young artist, playing Bach in the majesty of Greenland's endangered nature... as the sea keeps on rising...!"
Paul sighed and replied, "Tragically beautiful... Listen Dan, I want an album that stuns, seduces, and sells. For the video clip and the recording, put the best on the job. Take over, but don't drive me bankrupt."
"I assure you, Paul, this is the greatest investment you've ever made."
"If not the greatest, at least the craziest!"
Dan persuaded Mark to sail to Greenland for the recording and clip. The idea of playing in an awesome landscape, along with the sounds of birds on wing, a breeze in the grass, and a distant cascade flowing in the background enthralled him. They discussed the type of boat required and studied the photos and descriptions of Southern Greenland on the internet. Tasermuit fjord had the reputation of being by far the most beautiful. There was a heliport in the small town at the entrance of the fjord, Nanortalik, with a seemingly decent hotel for the videographers, sound recorders, and their assistants. Dan presented the project to the Danish Embassy, in charge of Greenland's foreign affairs, located in Knightsbridge, London. He was warmly congratulated. They assured him of their help if needed.
So, one thing leading to another, in the end, Dan found the charter company he needed. Authentic Sail Charters was based in Penzance, at the tip of Cornwall. They had the best choice of traditional wooden boats and the services required. They organised traditional offshore sailing school cruises but also proposed personal charters as well.
On February 19, 2019, Nigel Simpson, director of Authentic Sail Charters, received a mail from Dan Riley. He immediately transferred it to Captain Richard Reeves of the Hyperion, a recent replica of the Falmouth pilot cutter.
"Rick, read this. It's tailor made for you and your boat. I need a fast reply. Nigel"
Corydon Records to: authenticsailcharters@authenticsailcharters.uk subject: Greenland
Gentlemen,
We wish to create a video clip for our next record release with the cellist, Mark Sutherland.
Mr. Sutherland wishes to insist on the ecological dimension of his work. His future album shall be dedicated to Greenland and its dwindling icecap due to global warming.
Please reply to the following:
Do you have a traditional sailing yacht type workboat, available from April 29 to June 7, 2019, able to make the voyage to Tasermuit fjord, Southern Greenland, and back to Penzance, forty days in all?
We are counting on fifteen days for the crossing outbound and fifteen days inbound. A stay should be scheduled in the fjord for eight to ten days at the most for recordings and video shoots with your boat.
Mr. Sutherland refuses to use air travel so he would be your only passenger. Could Mr. Sutherland dispose of a private cabin?
If you can give us a positive reply to all our questions, would you please be so kind as to send us a detailed description of the boat you propose with photos. Also the composition of her crew, the type of meals you serve, etc.
We require a precise estimate of costs, insurance included.
In the event of a primary agreement, Mr. Sutherland and myself will come to Penzance, check the boat, and meet the crew. Following that visit, if all meets our requirements and is satisfactory for you, we can pay you a 50% deposit on the final invoice.
I thank you in advance for your prompt reply.
Faithfully,
Dan Riley, acting agent for Corydon Records and Mark Sutherland"
Rick Reeves immediately checked his planning, looked up Tasermuit fjord on the internet, and gathered his crew. The seaman, Tim Wooten, his chief cook, Sean Cooper, and his young deck-hand and cabin boy, Daran Flynt, all lived in Penzance. They met at Charlies Bar.
"Boys, we've got a good deal and a challenge on our hands. I'm going to read you the mail I got from the boss this morning," said Rick as they settled into a booth. Rick read the mail. The three others listened attentively.
Rick concluded, "So, to put it simply, this big-time record company wants to make a clip in Greenland and wants us to take their superstar there... Mark Sutherland must be a sort of activist, you know, like the Swedish teenager, Greta Thunberg... well, like her, since he refuses to fly. So they want a month long charter and the boss thinks Hyperion and we can do the job. We'd be gone all of May and beginning of June to Greenland, stay a week or so and then bring the fellow back. What do you say?"
"Who's this Mark Sutherland? Never heard of him..."
"A famous cellist"
"A what?" asked Tim.
"A fellow who plays a cello... you know, that's a big fiddle you play with it stuck between your knees," replied Daran.
"Sounds like a gentleman with class," commented Tim.
"That he must be, and you, Daran, better take damn good care of him, my lad!" replied Rick.
They continued talking and jesting over the perspective of sailing Hyperion to Greenland on a private charter with a single celebrity aboard. The more they talked, the more excited they became. As they ordered a second pint, Rick rang up Nigel.
"Hello Nigel, the May charter is good news indeed! You can answer 'yes' all down the line. I'm here with the boys and we're all in for it."
"Okay, I'll take it from there. I'll send Mr. Riley our best illustrated documentation concerning Hyperion."
"I checked Sutherland out on the internet. He's a star..."
"And an ardent ecological activist. I don't know if he's ready to help aboard, like you usually expect of your clients. If not, is that a problem?"
"This deal is for a personal charter -- not a sailing school. The four of us can handle everything. If the artist wants to learn, he'll be welcome, if not, no problem. We can give him my aft cabin with the double bed, all for himself. I'll bunk up with Tim and Sean in the forepeak and Daran'll take his usual pilot berth, midship. With only five men aboard, this cruise is going to be nice and easy -- and I've always wanted to see Greenland anyhow. As for the money, as long as we get our usual cut, we'll be fine..."
"Don't worry, Rick. I'll keep you guys updated as usual."
Dan Riley received the documentation with excellent pictures of Hyperion, inside and out. There were also pictures of the crew and a word about each of them. Inclosed was the detailed estimate of costs. He sent a copy to Mark and another to Paul at Corydon Records.
Mark carefully read everything. The captain looked friendly enough, the shipmates looked young and the boat was a work of art. He immediately replied that he liked what he saw and asked when would they be going to Penzance to check everything out for real.
The estimate was approved by Corydon Records.
Dan and Mark booked tickets for Penzance aboard the Great Western out of Paddington Station at 6:27 AM, arriving at 11:45. They were met by Nigel who drove them to the harbour.
Hyperion was shipshape, polished and varnished, gleaming in spite of the overcast sky. The crew was well groomed too, clad in their perfectly ironed sailor smocks.
"Let me introduce you to our captain here, Mr. Richard Reeves."
"Pleased to meet you, Captain," replied Mark with a courteous bow of the head.
"I'll let him introduce to you his crew."
Reeves nodded, "My first mate and seaman, Timothy Wooten, then Sean Cooper, the chief cook, and at last, Daran Flynt, the cabin boy. My crew and I are at your service."
Mark nodded, the crew nodded back.
Nigel took over, "Gentlemen, it's my pleasure to present to you Maestro Mark Sutherland, and beside him stands his own 'captain', so to speak, and agent, Dan Riley."
"Thank you for welcoming us aboard," politely replied Mark.
Nigel then said, "Captain Reeves, please show our guest around if you don't mind."
"Very well -- Sean is preparing lunch for us. I hope you like vegetable stew and apple pie."
"It smells delicious..." replied Mark.
"I was wondering, Mr. Sutherland, are you vegetarian?" inquired Nigel.
"Moderately so... only fish, eggs and sometimes a slice of ham..."
"Sean catches and cooks wonderful fish," stated Captain Reeves.
"That's good news..." replied Mark, smiling at Sean. Sean blushed.
"Have you ever been on this kind of a boat before, Mr. Sutherland?" inquired Reeves.
"No, this is my first time. I've already spent a weekend sailing with friends on a modern boat, you know the plastic kind. It was not halfway as appealing as Hyperion."
Reeves beamed, just like Tim, standing beside him.
"And you, Mr. Riley?"
"Unfortunately, I don't count," joked Dan.
"So, gentlemen, follow me. I'll try to be brief and explicit."
They toured the boat. Daran was waiting beside the passenger's future cabin. He seemed to be impressed by the effect of Mark's gentle presence.
"So you're the master of keeping the quarters tidy," stated Mark, smiling.
"Yes, Sir, and I'm responsible for all the upkeep under deck. I'll also be responsible for your comfort aboard, keeping your cabin and caring for your clothes, if you decide to charter Hyperion," politely asserted Daran.
"You're quite young for such a job, aren't you?"
"I've been sailing ever since I was sixteen, Sir, and I learned stewarding with my Mum. She runs a small inn over on the Isles of Scilly. And, by the way, I'm already twenty-two."
"And an excellent deck hand if needs be. He also takes his turn on night watch," added Reeves.
The visit continued topside. When they returned to the main cabin, Mark stated, "The glowing stove in here is really quite welcome. I suppose that even in May, in Greenland, we'll have to light it..."
"Correct, Sir," replied Daran, adding, "Gentlemen, lunch is ready, please be seated."
As they were sitting, Mark noted, "Captain, I saw that your engine compartment is impeccably clean. Do you use the motor often?"
"Only for leaving and entering a port," proudly stated Captain Reeves, unfolding his fresh linen napkin.
"I like that. I like that a lot!" remarked Mark, "Dan, what do you think of Hyperion?"
"I like her a lot, Mark" then turning towards Nigel, Dan simply continued, "We approve of Hyperion and her crew -- and if you approve of Mark, then we can sign a contract."
Everyone applauded. Spirits were high during lunch. The atmosphere became much less formal as they finished the last crumb of apple pie. Sean looked quite happy. Daran was perfect as he cleared the table and quickly took care of the dishes. Lively conversation filled the afternoon. Mark chatted with the crew while Dan went with Nigel to his office to go through all the paperwork.
Mark, alone with the crew, learned that Tim began as a deckhand on fishing boats when he was sixteen. He was single and began working with Captain Reeves when Hyperion went into service as an offshore sailing school two years previously. Sean was the silent one. He mumbled that he was single and had learned to cook on fishing boats as well. Daran, single also, joined the crew at the same time. As for Captain Reeves, he admitted, "I have a very patient wife and a teenage daughter in love with our young Daran here. It's a pity for her that the comely lad doesn't seem to be interested."
Mark laughed along with the crew. Daran turned red. Then Mark spoke for himself, "I'm single myself. My cello is a very demanding lover, so it's just the two of us... and I'm thoroughly happy that way."
"You've got your cello, Sir; we've got the sea," replied Daran.
There was a moment of meditative silence. Then Mark simply said, "Daran, Sean, Tim, Captain Reeves, please just call me Mark."
"Very well, Mark, as long as you just call me Rick. Okay?"
"Okay."
Dan and Mark bade good-bye to all and hurried off to catch the 4:15 PM back to London.
"Seeing your reflexion, in the window, Mark, I find you smile a lot since we left Penzance," remarked Dan as the train lumbered along in the dim light of dusk.
"I'm already in Greenland, Dan," he replied a bit dreamy-eyed, "and to be honest, I'm still aboard Hyperion. I don't know how I can wait until we leave."
"Do I have to remind you that you have three concerts programmed with the London Chamber Orchestra, Mark?"
"Yes, I know -- usual routine..."
April 29, 2019
Hyperion and her crew with Mark installed aboard left Penzance well behind. A good breeze out of the North kept them averaging a good six knots. A day and a half later, they passed the southern tip of Ireland, and set course WNW at 295°.
The first days outbound, the sailing was smooth, life was easy, Mark was treated like a real gentleman. Daran served him breakfast in his cabin. Mark then practised his cello. He spent as much time as he could topside. He asked a lot of questions concerning the art of sailing. Rick was happy to teach him, even letting him take the tiller at times.
"I'm quite impressed Rick," exclaimed Mark, holding the course of Hyperion in his hands.
As for Daran, under deck, he took pride in serving Mark. The cabin was always flawless and he even laundered and ironed Mark's socks, underwear and shirts. He admired the way the quiet young man moved around, always discreet, always respectful.
Their uneventful pleasure cruise changed one morning. The clouds were thickening, the temperature had fallen with the barometrical readings. Rick announced that they were heading directly into a wall of waves, fierce winds, rain, and lightning.
Just before it hit, the crew and Mark clad their slickers and scrambled topside. Rick held the tiller as the three others began to reef the sails. Sheets of rain and gusts of wind crashed down on them, drenching the deck. Mark was already soaked inside and out.
In the midst of the turmoil, the halyard of the jib fouled as they were trying to pull it down. Rick saw the problem, turned to Mark, and ordered, "Take over and keep her steady as she goes! I've got to go forward."
Mark obeyed the best he could. He held onto the bucking tiller, struggling with all his might. An image flashed through his mind. He was holding on to a massive cock, vibrating in his hands, urging to thrust. The sensation aroused him, made him feel a surge of power he had never felt before. He was succeeding in keeping Hyperion on course! Even if his shoulders ached as he leaned, wrestling with the rampant phallus he had mastered, he was jubilating inside, totally oblivious to the strain of his efforts.
Once the tangle up front was unravelled, Rick returned aft with Daran.
"Great job you did, Mark! By the time we're in Greenland, you're going to be an able seaman!" congratulated the Captain.
Daran's face was one big smile as he silently congratulated Mark also with a tap on the shoulder. Mark had never felt so honoured.
Hyperion rolled and pitched as she bucked, splitting the foam, the wind howling in the riggings.
"Mark, Daran, go see if everything isn't in shambles below," ordered Rick.
Mark no longer felt like a stranger aboard. He felt that Hyperion and her crew now considered him as belonging aboard. Daran and Mark ripped off their slickers and began to return several stray objects to their respective places. With a sudden lurch of the boat, Mark fell onto the centre table. He grabbed his shoulder and exclaimed, "My shoulder's sore as hell and now I'm bruised!"
"Please, Sir, let me help you to your cabin."
"Thanks, Daran... I think I can make it by myself. I'll just hold on to everything I can grab!"
"Don't worry, Sir. You're going to have your sea-legs once we're through the storm."
Mark managed to strip as Hyperion pitched and reeled. Waves crashed on the hull; the wind sang weird harmonics with the harp of shrouds around the mast; flashes of lightning streaked through the porthole as distant thunder growled in the downpour. Mark sat nude, a bit awestruck, on the edge of his berth. He was enthralled, dazed, hurting and yet tingling with a new sensation of being at last, totally alive.
"Do you need any help, Sir?" inquired Daran on the other side of the door.
"Please..."
Daran slipped in.
"My arms and shoulders really hurt now. Could you fetch my dry clothes for me?"
"Of course, Sir. Let me dress you."
Mark offered no resistance. For the first time since he was a small child, he let himself be coddled, and it was wonderful. His usual, and somewhat arrogant independence melted as he let the young man take care of him. Daran's touch was gentle as he slid Mark's boxer up his legs, then his jeans. Suddenly the cabin swerved and lurched. Daran fell on Mark. He immediately stood back up, apologising, "Sorry, Sir!"
"No problem... in fact that was fun!" jested Mark, rubbing his shoulder.
"If your shoulders still hurt, I can massage them this evening for you, Sir."
"That's really kind of you, Daran..."
"It's my duty, Sir... and my pleasure..."
"We'll see. Now toss me my t-shirt and sweater. I think I'm going to be all right now."
"Very well, Sir."
Mark slowly finished dressing, looked at his cello and said, "You and I are going to rest up from each other for a little while... but don't be jealous, I do love you too..."
Then Mark laughed out loud wondering why he had said 'too'...
Daran's massages worked miracles, silently bonding them a bit more every day. That gave Mark and Daran the opportunity to know each other better. Daran said he was the last of five children. His father worked in the famous gardens on the Isle of Tresco, and his mother kept the island inn.
Daran added, "When I left home, my dad said I could live my life as I want as long as I stay out of trouble..."
"And have you succeeded in staying out of trouble?" joked Mark.
"Up till now, I'm fine!" asserted Daran, laughing back.
For the rest of the crossing they enjoyed 'fair winds and following seas', as the saying goes. Mark was the happiest man alive.
When he practised in his cabin, his music had never sounded as intense as it did then, as if it were endowed with a supplement of lust, a gentle fire from within. When Daran heard him, he lingered near the door, spellbound listening, absorbing every note.
One night Mark had problems sleeping. Instead of lying wide-eyed like an imbecile in his berth, he dressed and went topside. It was three o'clock in the morning. Daran was on watch, holding the tiller. The dim glow of the compass enhanced his smile as he greeted Mark.
"Beautiful night, tonight, Sir. No moon, just the stars."
Mark was deeply touched by that instant. The rippling laughter of Hyperion's wake, like the glittering vault of scattered stars on the velvet glow of the Arctic summer night's sky submerged Mark with emotion. The radiating presence of Daran doubled his feelings. Deep down inside, Mark realised that he would never be the same. He would only be more, infinitely more the man he was discovering, his real self. The moment was sacred and almost scary.
"Are you all right, Sir?"
"Yes, Daran. In fact, I've never been better... at least, I think so."
Daran smiled, remaining silent. Mark stepped up close and looked at the compass.
"We're headed exactly due west. The sun will rise behind us."
"Britain is far behind us, Sir."
"Yes, Daran, very far..."
Mark simply stood by Daran on the other side of the tiller, placing his hand next to Daran's.
"Do you feel the vibrations, Sir?"
"Yes, I do, Daran," whispered Mark.
Daran slid his hand over Mark's. They exchanged a silent smile as dawn began to glow in the gurgling wake.
The following afternoon, the mountains of Greenland were insight. Rick modified their course a bit more, turning to the North.
"Mark, we should be arriving in Nanortalik three days ahead of schedule. I've notified your agent."
On the morning of May 11, 2019, there was a bit of excitement in the air as they tied up at the visitor's pier in the harbour of Nanortalik and were met by Nalik, the jovial harbour master.
Dan sent a message congratulating the crew for their prompt and safe arrival. He also said that the technical crew for the recording and video were scheduled to arrive on May 17. They were booked in the Hotel Farvel and a high speed motor boat was reserved for them to come and go for the recording and shootings. He wished Mark and the crew a good visit of the fjord.
The weather was splendid, the spirits were high. Mark was impatient to go hiking, get his walking legs working again.
That evening, the five men indulged in a gigantic seafood dinner at the hotel restaurant, followed by drinks... and more drinks at the Café 44. The owner told them about a Canadian fellow and his young French partner coming in aboard their sailboat, the Rainbow Angel, with passengers.
"Maybe you'll meet them while you're here. Nice men, all gay -- but inoffensive," stated one of the customers.
Daran stifled a laugh and whispered to Mark, "I've never thought of gays being offensive... Strange, no?"
Mark replied, "Depends on who's offended by gays, I suppose..."
"I guess you're right."
Sean refilled his pantry. Tim and Rick split their time between odd jobs on Hyperion and idling around town. Mark really wanted to take twenty-four hours off to go on a hike and asked Daran if he would like to come along. Daran immediately accepted. Mark had his equipment with him, but Daran wasn't outfitted.
"Listen, Daran, I want to thank you for all the special attention you're giving me. I saw that there's a store in town that has what is needed for a hike: walking shoes, sleeping bags, etc. I'd be pleased if you'd come with me and let me outfit you."
Daran hesitated, not knowing what to say.
"I'd feel hurt if you didn't accept..."
"If you put it that way, Sir, I accept, and -- and thank you."
At the store, the salesman said that the best hike was to go from the tiny village of Tasiusaq to Kuussuaq Camp where a lake flows into the fjord. The scenery is fantastic... I highly recommend."
Mark asked Rick if he could take him, with Daran, to Tasiusaq. He wanted to go on an overnight hike and had asked Daran to come with him. Rick said they were going to anchor there anyway for the recording and video.
"Perfect!" exclaimed Mark.
During the morning of May 13, 2019, Hyperion entered the fjord. It would be more appropriate to say, entered the gates of paradise. The stunning purity of the light, the limpidity of the waters, the towering, jagged peaks bordering the fjord until disappearing in the distance... everything the eye met was breathtaking. The crew was silent as Hyperion eased along. Varied masses of wildflowers, cladding the hills, mirrored their vibrant colours in the immobile waters along the shore.
They dropped anchor at the foot of Tasiusaq and were welcomed by a group of children shouting and waving from the jetty.
While Sean prepared lunch, Rick and Tim went ashore to introduce themselves, as was arranged beforehand, to the head of the village, explaining that they would be there for a week or more.
Mark and Daran packed a single rucksack with his small tent, their down bags, and the rest of their supplies. He felt especially excited. So did Daran.
After lunch, Tim rowed them ashore. On the way, Tim said something in Cornish to Daran. Daran laughed and quipped back a reply.
As Mark and Daran climbed out of the inflatable tender, Tim advised, "Be careful. I'll pick you two up here tomorrow at noon... and enjoy yourselves."
Mark asked, "What were you laughing about in the boat?"
"Tim was teasing me about the way I behave around you. He says I'm flirting and I told him to mind his own business."
"I don't mind your ways with me at all... In fact I love them!" exclaimed Mark, stooping to pick up the rucksack. Daran grabbed it and put it on his back.
"That's my job, Mark."
Pleasantly surprised, Mark replied, "Here, ashore, you call me by my name and aboard, I'm called 'Sir'..."
"That's right!" acknowledged Daran.
Mark said, "That's much better!"
"On land, it's not the same..."
They shook hands, laughing.
"Let's go!"
For the following hours, they hiked, nibbling their food supplies, picking berries, drinking of the many springs surging from the hillside. The sun was close to hot. Daran's excitement seemed to hasten his pace. Every now and then he made a brief halt for Mark to catch up. Be it the heaths of heather, the blueberries, the laughing streams, or the lingering sun hovering over the mountains, Daran sang as he walked. The beauty of his voice astounded Mark, following close behind.
"The tone of your voice, Daran, is as pure as the beauty surrounding us. Are they folk tunes?"
"No, I make up my own melodies. I sing when I'm happy and now I'm happy! Lowenek!" he shouted.
"Lowenek?"
"That's Cornish for happy. If I don't sing when I'm full of feelings, I explode inside and weep. Usually I just sing to myself, but here... with you... Well, I sing for joy!"
"I'm touched," replied Mark.
Daran blushed.
They walked until the sun met the tip of the mountain on the far side of the fjord. They decided to not go to the wooded valley, fearing mosquitoes. They decided to stop for the night by the stream flowing from the lake into the fjord. A steady breeze off the water kept the mosquitoes at bay. Mark pitched the tent while Daran gathered dead shrub-wood for the fire.
Thin veils of smoke swirled around them as they relaxed on the tarp spread on the grass. They sat close together, sharing a blanket, soaking in the beauty of the dimming twilight and the dancing flames of their fragrant fire.
After a long moment, Mark uttered, "If only we could forget, be it just for an hour, the immense mess in which the quest of money and power has thrown mankind, wounding the planet, endangering us all. It would be so great if we could just forget the spreading nightmare and let ourselves go. I don't know how to release the grip that holds me back from simple happiness. I'd like to be selfish, just for once."
"You can, Mark."
"How?"
"By indulging in tenderness with yourself... and maybe with certain others."
"Wow! Daran you amaze me! Can I hug you?"
"Please!"
Mark took Daran in his arms and gently pulled him close, burying his face in the nook of Daran's neck with a furtive kiss. Daran melted into Mark's embrace, humming his contentment. He remained, resting his head on Mark's chest. Mark kept hold of him, cradling him ever so gently. Daran let his hand rest on Mark's thigh.
Mark gazed into the flames, slowing surrendering to the fire rising from deep within his breathing deepened. His lips tingled as he moistened them with his tongue, his hips softly rolling to and fro.
Daran's nimble fingers were deftly unbuckling the belt of Mark's jeans. They edged into the warmth under the elastic of his boxers. His fingertips gently stirred Mark's pubic curls and finally touched his leaking glans. In a flash, Daran shifted around and pulled down both boxers and jeans, freeing Mark's trembling erection.
Nothing was said.
Caught in a riptide of lust Mark gasped. Short of breath, he fought a surge of guilt and then surrendered to the sinless will of nature.
Daran looked up. His eyes met Mark's. Daran smiled. Mark nodded. Daran quivered as he lowered his head once more and hummed, sucking even harder on Mark's slender, oozing cock. His tongue swirled. His lips squeezed the shaft. Raw instinct drove Mark to throb and gently thrust. Daran's delicate fingers fondled Mark's balls, caressed his anal ring, entered deeper and deeper, always lovingly. Mark buried his fingers into Daran's abundant hair, nearly fainting from the revelation that was dawning within him. Mark's total abandon to Daran's fervour drove them both beyond reason. Daran's open throat massaged Mark's straining cock. Daran moaned, coming up for air only to dive even deeper. This lasted the eternity of several seconds until Mark growled, stiffened, howled, his semen surging, quenching Daran's insatiable thirst.
A silent rising moon smiled in the twilight on the spent bodies entwined by the dwindling coals.
Mark managed to utter, "Thank you..."
Daran giggled, "My pleasure. I love your spicy taste!
"You say I taste spicy..." commented Mark.
"Yes, you do. I've only sucked one other cock than yours. It was my cousin's and his cum tasted like stale yogurt. Yours tastes like cinnamon tea... Do you like to suck cock?"
"I've never sucked -- and tonight was the first time I've been sucked..."
"Really! Didn't your girlfriends suck?"
"I've never been that keen on sex, Daran. The few girls I've ever been with only wanted my cock up their cunt... and I must admit it was a bit boring."
"Poor girls"
Mark laughed, grabbing Daran again, covering him with kisses as he uttered, "Let's turn in."
"Are you sleepy?"
"No"
Moonlight seeped inside the small tent. They stripped nude and slid under the opened down bags. They continued cuddling. Daran squirmed, wiggled, and giggled as Mark licked him lower and lower. Just when Mark began to suck Daran's ardent young cock, instinctively striving to quench a sudden thirst, Daran flipped around and plunged under the duvet to feed himself as well.
This time, there was nothing slow nor really gentle about their frolicking. Their energy was spinning in their bodies, flowing from one into the other at the same time. The double connection accelerated their frenzy. As if tuned in perfect harmony, they ejaculated at the exact same moment. The riptide of their converging orgasms left them for an instant on the verge of fainting.
Holding on to each other, wet with sweat, Daran mumbled, "You still taste spicy."
"And you taste like honey and wine... delicious..."
"Really?"
Daran kissed Mark's silken pits, inhaling the musky, manly scent. Mark squirmed even more, relishing the sensation. Then Daran leaned over him and stifling a yawn, whispered, "The first one awake has to wake up the other. Okay?"
"For more loving?" echoed Mark.
"For a lot more loving..."
"Good night, Daran, I'm happy. Again, how do you say, 'happy' in Cornish?"
"Lowenek"
"Lowenek" repeated Mark, pulling Daran in closer. Soon, they were sound asleep in the warmth of their down bags zipped together.
There are mornings in which new worlds are born. This was one of them. Mark was smiling when Daran slowly opened his eyes.
"Already awake? And you didn't wake me up..."
"Yes, I did. See, you're awake. Now hug me!" stated Mark, crawling on top of Daran.
"Mark, I'm hungry."
"For breakfast or me?"
"Breakfast now, you later..."
"Yes!"
They made it back to Tasiusaq just in time to see Tim rowing away from Hyperion.
"You two look mighty happy! I suppose you enjoyed your little excursion," stated Tim as they climbed in.
Daran replied quite soberly, "Yes, it wasn't too bad..."
Mark added, "Yeah, not bad..."
They both giggled like schoolboys. Tim shrugged.
Back aboard, Mark told Rick that the place was perfect for their future work with the technical crew. He also requested permission to practise his cello on deck. Permission granted.
That night, Daran slept with Mark in his cabin.
Mark began to improvise with his cello on deck. The crew was mesmerised.
That evening at dinner, nothing was said but all realised that Mark and Daran were in love. Feeling fatherly, Rick took Daran and Mark aside.
"Daran, my boy, don't let Mark go to your head, and you, Mark, I hope your involvement with Daran is sincere."
Mark glanced at Daran, standing steadfast by his side, then replied, "I appreciate your concern, Rick. Let me say that our feelings for each other are new, sudden, and a bit mysterious... I guess you could say that they are a sudden yet natural revelation for the both of us. Whatever they be, please know, Rick, that our feelings are totally sincere."
Rick looked at Daran.
Daran nodded.
Rick simply said, "Be happy."
The technical crew landed in Narsarsuaq International Airport and made connections with their helicopter, landing in Nanortalik. They checked in at the hotel. Some complained, of course, others thought the place was fun...
Their motor launch roared in alongside Hyperion. The group of technicians scrambled aboard. The change of atmosphere was radical. Dan was happy to see Mark so radiant. When he saw Mark with Daran, Dan immediately understood.
The arrival of the technicians aboard Hyperion was like an invasion. They began by trying to set up headquarters under deck in the living quarters. Mark opposed.
"Hey there! Listen to me for a minute or two. I'm glad you're here for us to work together, but remember one thing, if you're here -- IT'S FOR ME! I'm the one in charge and I demand that you organise yourselves off our premises. So get your stuff out of our living quarters. Use your stinking motor launch for home base. Am I understood?"
Dan was surprised to see Mark behave with such force. The chief looked at Dan. Dan looked at Mark. Mark didn't flinch.
"Do as Mr. Sutherland says," asserted Dan.
After two days of video, the time came for Mark to record. He was taken to the spot where Daran and he had camped. Mark was improvising while the sound recorders set up their microphones.
Dan asked, "What are you're playing there, Mark?"
"Nothing in particular. For the past few days, I've been improvising. This place inspires me deep down inside."
"Like Daran does too?"
Mark blinked, smiled, and replied, "Yeah... like Daran does too."
Dan stuttered, "What you're playing is absolutely astounding. It's beautiful... I mean more than beautiful. It's... I don't know what to say..."
"Dan, it's me, it's nature, it's love... nothing more, nothing less. It's simply that."
Upset, Dan paced back and forth as Mark resumed improvising. Daran came up and put his hand on Mark's shoulder. Mark smiled. His music was even more impressive. Then he stopped and began going through the first notes of Bach's suite number five that had been planned for the recording.
Dan stepped up and interrupted, "Mark, forget Bach. Do your thing. I'll handle it with Corydon Records."
The clip and the recording were done in four days. The recording was simply two times thirty minutes of constant improvisation with Daran standing behind him. One was done as dawn merged into day and the other while twilight fell. Both were recorded with the surrounding natural sounds. The result was astounding.
As for the clip, the videographers made rushes of the changing landscapes, of views of Hyperion at anchor and under sail, and informal shots of Mark and Daran laughing, walking, talking together. The editing of the final three minute clip would be done in London, as well as the final cut of the recording amplified by an effect of spacial depth.
Dan congratulated Mark -- and Daran. The job was done... and well done at that.
The motor launch roared off with the technicians, returning to Nanortalik and then on to their flight back to England.
Hyperion set sails for Penzance.
That night, after dinner, Rick said, "I want everybody on deck with Tim at the tiller."
Daran looked puzzled as he laid down the dishes and followed Mark and Sean. On the bench beside Tim was proudly placed a bottle of French champagne and five glasses. With a beaming smile, Rick popped the cork of the champagne and began filling the glasses.
"Gentlemen, as captain of Hyperion, I have the honour and privilege to announce to you that henceforth, our inbound voyage shall be a honeymoon cruise for our precious steward, Daran and our prestigious passenger, Mark. Even if for the Crown, they are not officially married, I declare them legitimate lovers in the eyes of whoever in heaven -- or in hell -- is in charge!"
"Hurrah!"
Daran and Mark blushed.
"Here's to you, my bonnie lads!" exclaimed Rick as he lifted his glass.
Tim added, "And don't fuck up, you two -- just ... Well, forget the 'up'!"
Laughter seemed to thunder in the twilight as Hyperion split the waves, making the best speed ever.
That night in their cabin, Daran gave himself entirely to Mark, receiving him in his deepest intimacy. The following morning, Mark received Daran. The alchemy of their love making was progressively alloying their souls, enlightening their flesh.
June 17, 2019
Hyperion tied up at her private dock in Penzance. Mark spoke with Dan on the phone. That evening the crew celebrated the end of the voyage.
With a moderate hangover, Mark and Daran boarded the morning train for London. As they left Paddington Station, the absurdity of cars jammed in with overloaded busses, paralysing the crowded streets, along with the stifling stench of their fumes suddenly seemed unbearable. The shop windows overflowing with futile yet expensive trash, the mobs of people hurrying, in fact, to nowhere. All of that provoked in Mark a dizzy sensation of nausea.
Mark paid the taxi. They took the lift with their bags to the top floor. Mark's two room flat was in a luxurious furnished residence hotel. He immediately opened the windows to rid the place of the stale, confined, air conditioned odour inside. Daran looked a bit at loss, never having been in such a posh, contemporary environment. Looking over the rooves of London, the view was impressive but the grumble of traffic below reminded them both of the desert they were in. Mark glanced at the pile of mail on the buffet, mumbling, "The fake world is catching up with me..."
Mark's usual housemaid had kept the plants well watered. The sheets on the bed were fresh as well as the towels in the bathroom. However there was nothing to eat in the fridge and the pantry was bare with the exception of several bottles of Italian wine.
"Do you want to go back out for dinner, Daran, or do I have pizza delivered?"
"Pizza!"
The pizza was a banquet, the wine, a treat, and the big bubble bath together, total heaven. They had no problem enjoying each other in Mark's kingsized bed.
The following morning, Mark introduced Daran to the maid and gave her a list of things needed to fill the pantry. He sullenly took care of his mail, emptied his answering machine and spent an hour or so on the phone for, in fact, nothing. Then he took time with Daran to plan what they wanted to do. Both said they wanted to work on a project of song and cello.
For the following days, they enjoyed cooking together, making music, recording their improvisations. They went out as little as possible, trying to forget the city, but Mark was compelled to honour several social obligations. At least he was happy to have Daran come with him, even if it bored them both to death.
Paul said that Daran was 'rustically charming' and suggested that Mark do something about his grooming and wardrobe. Mark remained politely silent, dismissing Paul's stupid remarks.
The time finally came for Mark to control the recordings of the Greenland album with Dan and Paul. They had yet to decide on a title.
Daran preferred to visit the British Museum during that time. He and Mark would meet afterwards.
The final version of the album met Mark's approval. Dan's suggestion for a title pleased everyone: Revelation. Paul wrote out a substantial cheque in advance for Mark's royalties as both 'composer' and soloist.
That ordeal being over, Mark met back with Daran.
"Mark, you look upset..." commented Daran after a few minutes walking together.
"No, I'm fine... "
"Liar" stated Daran.
Mark stopped in his footsteps, looked at Daran, uttering, "What?"
"You heard me. I said 'Liar'. You're lying to yourself, Mark, but you can't lie to me. What's wrong? You've changed a lot since we arrived in London."
"I can't go on living a life as stupid as this. I'm not the same man that left here weeks ago. I'm stuck again in the rut of professional music. Come on, let's grab a taxi, go to the flat. I need to talk with you... I need it bad... I need you, Daran."
They were silent during the taxi ride.
They settled down in the living room.
"I'm listening, Mark."
"The experience of sailing, of Greenland, of you... all those accumulated events have changed my life more than I realised. Before, I believed happiness was being a success. I enjoyed being treated like a star. My brother was the big shot in the family. He became a 'somebody' in the City, making tons of money with other people's money. I had to prove to our parents that I was somebody too. So I became the total opposite 'somebody' of my brother. I became a musician. Don't take me wrong. I love music, I love my cello, I love nature... but... Now I'm confused."
"Do you love love?"
"Excellent question... I'm afraid of love. At least I used to be afraid of it. My brother never loved me. I never loved him either. I never FELL in love... I think I simply made myself unavailable for love... and I was okay with that. Well, all that's ruined, smashed, devastated. I'm lost and yet I've never been happier than I am with you."
Daran took a deep breath and quietly asked, "Mark, what's your deepest, most selfish, secret desire -- and give me a true answer. Don't lie to me. Don't consider others, answer just for yourself."
"That's impossible for me, Daran."
"Do it, Mark! Answer me! I don't want to share my life with an undecided man who only lives up to what is expected of him. I know you've got more balls than that. Answer me!"
Mark sat there, pale, looking like an abandoned puppy, panicking at the idea of displeasing Daran, possibly losing him.
"Do you need me to repeat my question?"
"No... just give me a moment."
"No I won't. Answer me immediately, straight out. No fancy words, just truth, your truth, speak your soul, Mark!"
Mark blurted out, "I want a totally blank future, a future full of Nothing! I want NOTHING! I don't want anything that ties me down! I want to be free and to wander free anywhere, everywhere, and put all my trust in..."
Mark hesitated.
"In what, Mark?"
"In... in myself -- with you."
"You said, you want to put all your trust in yourself with me -- and not in me. Am I right?"
"Yes"
"Free to welcome what may come together?"
"Yes... Oh, yes! I want us to be light... light like a beacon and light like a feather. I want to cease being an accomplice in the crime of capitalism, greed, competition... I want a simple life, trusting in life itself... a life open to life, open to love. There! Have I answered your question?"
"Do you feel better?"
"Yes, but what are you getting at?"
Daran answered, "I'm saying let's do what you want. I want it too -- with you."
"I don't understand."
"It's not complicated, Mark. Let's leave this world you despise. Let's get out. Let's become sea gypsies with an old sailboat, no pollution, no motor, heeding the will of the wind... trusting life. That's all."
Mark marvelled at every syllable coming out of Daran's mouth. He gazed at him as if he had never seen him before. He finally saw him as he was. Upset by Mark's silence, Daran said, "You think I'm crazy don't you, Mark?"
"No, I think you're simply out of this world! And that's where we're going. We're going OUT OF THIS WORLD and it's going to be out of this world!" chanted Mark, dancing around the living room.
"You still think I'm crazy..."
"Yes! You're crazy, daft, mad, a true genius, a human, a saint, an angel, and I love you, Daran Flynt!"
"Mark, if you don't go too far, you don't go far enough..."
They talked on and on about how radical their life could be together and it was very radical.
Their decision was made. They had their favourite pizza delivered, drank a bottle of Prosecco, and made love all night long, burning in a fire of self-truth, faith, and fervour. Their orgasms were like fireworks, full of glee, laughter, and strength. No looking back. Only a virgin horizon inviting them to join the planet and become real humans at last.
The following two days were spent looking for THE boat on the internet.
"Mark, come take a look. I think I've found what we want. She's up in Scotland, in Leith, you know, on the firth by Edinburgh."
Mark read the announcement, studied the pictures, and said, "I like her. Let's go have a look. I'll phone for an appointment now."
Mark called. They booked a cabin on the Caledonian sleeper.
That evening under the shower together, Daran said, as he shampooed Mark's hair, "I love you more and more."
Mark remained silent. Then he pulled Daran's face close to his. Tears of joy brimmed, overflowing with the showering waters, dissolving all doubt, all fear, all hesitation.
July 10, 2019
The boat's name, Saorsa, was perfect. It meant freedom in Gaelic. She was a twelve metre pilot cutter in good condition. Mark and Daran discussed the price, considering the refurbishing needed. They came to an agreement with the broker, and told him to make out the papers in both their names. Mark signed the cheque, and said they'd be back in less than a week.
In London Mark and Daran asked to speak with Paul and Dan. The meeting took place July 14, 2019. They explained their decision to strike out on the boat they had just bought. Dan wasn't that surprised. He knew Mark's aspirations, his creative intuition, his capacities of radical decisions. Paul said that they were totally mad and would soon be back begging for work...
Mark replied, "Maybe, Paul... and maybe not..."
Mark then stipulated that eighty percent of his royalties were to be donated to Greenpeace and the other twenty percent put into his savings account. He thanked both of them for all that they had done, making his new life now possible. Paul informed him that Revelation was going to be presented in the Danish Embassy on Sloane Street, September 12 and asked Mark, and even Daran to be there.
"We'll be there, and thank you both again," replied Mark leaving.
Back in the flat, Mark went through his belongings and chose to keep only what could fit in Saorsa, the rest was going to charity. He packed, turned in his key to the residence. They returned to Edinburgh and checked in a small hotel in Leith to work on their boat until she was ready to be lived in.
They had the boatyard replace the motor for a hybrid model. They ordered a small solid fuel stove and paraffin lamps. They contacted a mattress maker for their berth in the forepeak. They purchased a satellite phone with GPS incorporated and a solar panel to keep it charged.
They sanded and varnished the interior themselves while the new set of sails was being sewn. They had professionals handle the outside calking and paint.
On August 19, 2019, they moved aboard, and took Saorsa out on trial runs until she was completely tuned, ready for the voyage. This kept them busy until they had to return to London for the presentation of Revelation.
September 12, 2019, London
During the ceremony and following cocktail, Mark improvised a solo. Then Paul made a brief speech and handed the microphone to Mark.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, thanks for coming. Now is the moment of truth, I guess... First of all, I must thank each and everyone who made the adventure of Revelation possible, be it my faithful agent and friend, Dan Simpson, Paul Evans of Corydon Records, the wonderful team of videographers and sound recorders who created the record and the clip. I especially send out my deepest gratitude to the crew of Hyperion, Captain Reeves, Tim, his hardy seaman, Sean, the chief cook, and to my dearest Daran, steward, and... Well, I'll get back to him later. They safely took me to Greenland and back again, sometimes facing storms and high seas, sometimes the doldrums of dead calm. That experience of sailing the high seas changed my life, in more ways than one, and if I dare be so blunt, that's my own business... and perhaps the title, Revelation, may seem to be a bit mystical to you. If so, I'm glad."
Ripples of laughter rose from the hushed crowd.
"Yes, this entire experience, be it human, musical, even spiritual, revealed to me the dire urgency to begin healing our planet. Most of you know that I've always been known as a halfwit activist, an annoying ecological maniac like the miraculous Greta Thunberg, just to mention her..."
Mark paused, changed tone, and pursued.
"People, try to understand this. I've sailed through fish abundant waters; I've walked along pristine beaches free of all the manmade litter that our now sick seas usually vomit; I've breathed air that was only air, laden with the indescribable fragrance of another Arctic spring; I've experienced the purity of unwounded nature, and I wept, overcome by such sacred beauty. I then realised how goddamn right I was to drift away from the natural disaster of our economical achievements. Our outstanding prowess in the art of killing life... and lives seem to be blindly unlimited, and I heard the distant forlorn whimper of our one and only world whisper in my heart, 'Help, I'm hurting'."
There was a dead silence in the room.
"So I played my cello in the hope of consoling our real world. Unknown music surged from my soul, flowed into my fingers and arms as my love stood behind me caressing my shoulder, pressing his body against mine, warming my back with the power of his steadfast stance. He understood what was happening... and he understood it by the only way we really understand things. He understood it because he FELT IT. His soul bonded with mine. As I played, improvising the instant, the light became brighter, the breeze became gentler, the colours vibrated, and the scents intensified as if the real world was thankful."
Some of the guests were dubious, others enthralled -- so be it -- but no one was indifferent. Then Mark's voice became elegantly angry.
"That's the second time I've said, 'the real world'. When people say I'm not realistic, do they realise that they live in a fake world, a world of competition, profit, greed, violence, hate, and you know how long the litany can be? That's not natural; that's not a part of our planet's reality. That's our distorted, toxic human reality that's speaking!"
His point was made.
"So, as I was playing, the world surrounding me revealed to me the essence of its reality. It was standing behind me, caressing my shoulder, warming me with his power of loving. The incarnation of love at that very moment, for me then and even now, is Daran Flynt, the steward, cook, and cabin boy of Hyperion. Daran Flynt, the love my life, standing there smiling at me as I preach. He is my revelation, my muse, and my..."
Mark sought his words.
"My... I don't know what. All I know is that if mankind could love the world as the real world loves us, as Daran loves me, as I love him, as the flower loves the rain and the cloud, the mountain top, this hurting planet would be healed. That's why this album's called Revelation. Thank you."
Mark stepped down from the podium and hugged Daran as applause thundered in the room. Only two or three took a French leave, dismayed, disgusted.
The crowd began to chant, "A Kiss! A Kiss!"
Daran grabbed Mark's head and gave his mouth the kiss of a lifetime. In a second breath, he simply whispered. "I'm proud of you, Mark Sutherland! You've got balls..."
Mark whispered back in Daran's ear, "And they're loading up, just for you, Daran Flynt! Now let's elbow our way to the bar. I'm dying of thirst!"
They left for Norway on September 20, 2019 with the tide of the autumn equinox. They sailed all the way to Flam at the end of the Sognefjord. There they busked for the tourists, Daran singing and Mark playing his cello, like two simple wave wanderers bumming their way through. The amount they accumulated was rather surprising. The mooring was lovely, the locals, friendly, and the nearby store quite convenient, so they stayed.
"In a pinch we could do day charters. The people love our classic sailboat."
When they weren't working on their music together, or busking, they indulged in long hikes in the surrounding mountains. The first snow of winter surprised them.
"We'll see with the spring if we go further north..."
They did just that, eager to simply bask hand in hand under the midnight sun.
Free portraits of Mark and Daran as well as pictures of Hyperion and Saorsa (pdf) are available upon request at maringiustinian@gmail.com.