Content: MM pairing, Queer, Erotica, Intercrural Sex, Sex as Magic Power. Some mentions of an age difference, but it’s in thousands of years based on dimensional shifts, so, yeah. If that squicks you, protect yourself.
THURSDAY, 16 AUGUST, 1883 DAWN
I woke with the dawn. The sun was painting the horizon with gold. Behind the trees, the moon was sinking on her way to sleep. We slept beneath the lonesome birch. Though there had been a chill beneath the trees, we’d curled around each other, and I’d not noticed the cold. Not with Roe tucked in against my chest, nestling in the curve of my naked body.
I propped myself up on an elbow to watch him unobserved. Memories of the time before came in waves. The Roe of those memories was as jovial and free, but he was also less care-worn. There were marks on his body that did not match my visions of him. My fingers sought out each new scar. I committed their size and shape to mind, like a student studying a master’s work.
It was mystifying, to feel such tenderness for another.
I knew Roe in my bones. And yet there were thousands of years of my life lost to me. My human gran used to say loving someone is knowing the exact shape of their smile even when your face is a stranger to you.
I tasted a long scar on the cap of Roe’s shoulder, and he stirred in my arms. laying behind him, I slipped my arm beneath his head, curling it around to hold his throat in my palm.
He groaned, and his voice rumbled against my fingers, “A good morning to you, young sir.”
“Pfft,” I huffed, “By your account, I’ve lived a thousand human years, including the 39 or so I’ve kicked around in this skin.”
“You’re barely out of short pants, compared to me.”
I rolled my eyes, snaking my other hand over his hip to grasp his thickening cock.
“Is that right?”
I gathered the drops from his glistening tip and spread it over his shaft, “I didn’t hear you bemoaning my youth and inexperience last night.”
“I’d forgotten you’re a chatterbox.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” I hummed, pulling him back against my hard prick. A sweet rush of pleasure surged beneath my skin like molten gold. Gripping his thigh, I slid between his legs, nudging his taint with my cock-head. He growled at the sensation as it brushed his balls.
He was beautiful, thrusting into my hand, taking his pleasure from me with abandon. My hips slowed as I tightened my grip on his prick. The muscles in my body remembered how to love him well. He writhed. His head was thrown back, mouth open against mine as we shared each other’s breath.
I spied a stray bead of sweat on his neck and bent to lick it, stopping to bite the lobe of his ear. He stilled, his entire body frozen with pleasure as he spilled over his hand.
I held him through his release, loving the wet warmth that slicked my fingers.
When his breathing slowed, he turned, licking at my lips, and pulled and pushed at me until I blanketed his body. Without forethought, I swiped his spend over the crease of his thigh.
Pressed body to body, I began to roll above him like water. His softening cock brushed against my hardness, and I cried out from the tingling sensation it sent dancing across my skin.
“Look at you,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead, “Look at my beautiful man. I missed you.”
I was overcome. A shout exploded from my throat as my body spasmed as I came against Roe’s stomach. A warm golden light flowed from beneath my skin, lighting the small clearing, throwing Roe’s satisfied smile into stark relief.
“Look at you. Just look at you,” Roe whispered, repeating himself as my eyelids drooped, exhaustion pulling me back into the darkness of sleep.
THURSDAY, 16 AUGUST, 1883, AFTERNOON
That morning we dozed another hour in the forest until the sun was above the trees. We’d stumbled out of the woods with torn clothes and sore bodies, but no worse for the wear.
At Miss Murdina’s instruction, Staffa had been brushed down and passed the night with the other horses. He seemed happy to see me but less than pleased to leave his new companions.
The first surprise of my new life came when I was readying Staffa for the trip back to town.
Roe and Miss Murdina planned to accompany me in one of the Circus’ wagons. Miss Murdina would stay in my cottage under the auspices of my needing to monitor her healing foot, and Roe would serve as a chaperone.
I would tell the Town Moderator I was moving on come Saturday. It would give them a few days to get the word spread around to send for the doctor two towns over in Richford if someone fell ill.
I’d been lost in my thoughts, when a stout man lumbered over and slapped me on the back.
“Good to see you back in the fold, young master.”
When I turned to greet him and offer my hand, I was shocked to silence.
The shadow of Roe’s horse, Master Angus, hung around him like a shroud for a moment before it faded. He laughed and clapped a palm on my shoulder, shaking me like one might a child.
“I’m guessing you’ve not seen many of our kind with your true eyes, have ya’?”
“Master Angus?” I asked.
“Master Angus, indeed. Being lost to us hasn’t hurt your manners, at least.” He popped a pipe out of his pocket and knocked the bowl against the bottom of his boot.
“Blessings of the Elder Ones, Master Angus, leave the poor boy alone,” Roe joked.
His arms wound around my waist, and his lips dropped a kiss behind my ear. “He’s not even a full turn of the sun back with us, Master Angus. And already your hanging on his shirttails with your foolishness.”
My skin flushed pink, and I squirmed in Roe’s embrace. I’d lived 39 years as a man in a world whose kindest word for me was invert. There wasn’t a shred of comfort spared for me and those who loved like me.
Roe held tight to me and said, “It’ll take some time for you to shed all that mortal lunacy.”
Snorting, Master Angus clamped his pipe-stem between his teeth, “That’s is the truth.” The mirth in his eyes softened, “When I think of the hate they wrap themselves up in. They make Rawn look like a tender youth.”
The name conjured the image of a man wearing a blood-soaked stag’s head. His eyes were burned white like spent coals, and even in my mind, I smelled the wet-rot of death on him.
“That’s the very one,” Master Angus said, reading my thoughts and tapping his finger to the side of his nose.
“He’s a terror,” Roe added.
It wasn’t until my hands slipped on the buckles of Staffa’s girth that I perceived my body was trembling.
“He was the one, wasn’t he? The one who sent me here.”
Roe and Master Angus shared a look, both seemed to measure the weight of the truth and my strength to bear it. In the end, they found me equal to the task and nodded.
“He is. And I’d reckon there are ripplings of your awakening rushing through the minds of the Elder Ones. I’d bet you a button he’s heard.”
“Am I safe?”
“You are, as long as your with me. And when your power returns, Rawn won’t stand a chance against the two of us.”
“But then how…”
Roe’s brow dipped, and his voice dropped, the anger apparent in each clipped word, “He’d weakened you because he was jealous. And he paid dearly for it, love. I doubt he’d risk what little he has left to come for you.”