October 31st. Halloween. A day for children to dress up as ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggity beasties. A time for the Pagans to celebrate rites older than the season itself, and, on Dargoth, a public holiday. The Seer’s birthday.
Arrowsmith had asked Blackbird years ago to declare the day a holiday, because he personally felt no one should have to go to school on Halloween. Not that the average Dargothian had the first idea what ‘Halloween’ was, but as a small child, being forced to attend school on what was not only the greatest day of the year but his birthday as well was nothing short of criminal.
Fortunately his adoptive parents agreed. And Blackbird was not opposed to a pointless holiday. So as Arrowsmith awoke, it was with the knowledge that, all over the province, people were drinking to his health.
Arrowsmith wished he could enjoy that thought as he sat up. The last three birthdays had been for the most part unmarked by himself. His birthday had always been planned by Infamous. But Infamous was dead and buried, and it would be another seventeen to twenty-two years before he was back.
Arrowsmith looked around the huge, ornate bedchamber, realizing it was rather late in the day. Simon, Infamous’ aged grey wolf, should have awoken him by now. In fact the elderly beast was at the foot of the bed right now. But as Arrowsmith reached out to gently awaken him, his fingers met cold fur and stiff flesh. Simon had passed away in his sleep.
He sighed heavily, feeling tears come to his brown eyes, and he looked away. “Ah crap,” he finally said. “Ah Simon, why today, buddy?”
Arrowsmith said his goodbyes to the silent grey form, then slid out of bed to dress. Since Simon was a wolf, and therefore a sacred animal, his burial would be performed by priestesses of the Moon Goddess. Arrowsmith looked around for a suitable shroud, and finally decided on a satin and fur cloak. Wrapping him in it, Arrowsmith carried the dead wolf out of the bedchamber and down to the temple. Then he went down to the Dirty Duck Tavern and spent the next few hours drinking.
***---***
He returned to the Palace late that afternoon, just as the autumn sky was beginning to darken, and a storm quietly brewed on the horizon. He was walking down the hall towards his bed chamber, when he noticed Monshikka approaching him. Arrowsmith caught his friend gently and placed a kiss on the top of his head.
“Going to bed, snow-prince,” said Arrowsmith. “See you in the morning.”
“Bed?” said Monshikka, surprised. “But it is only now dinner time!”
“I know,” said Arrowsmith, and Monshikka could smell he had been drinking. “But birthdays just aren’t as much fun as they used to be.” He gave his friend another kiss, then kept on towards his room. Monshikka watched him go, then made his own way to the dining hall.
He entered the large hall and seated himself at the enormous table. “I just ran into Arrowsmith,” he said. “He’s going off to bed.”
“Bed?” said The Moonhound. “Is he ill?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. He’s rather heartsick right now. His lover is dead, Simon passed away this morning, and his friends seem to have forgotten his birthday.”
There was an embarrassed silence at the table. “Oh,” said Misty.”
Blackbird slapped his hand to his forehead. “Seer’s Birthday! How could I be so dense!”
“Too late to do anything about it now,” said Monshikka. “He’s drunk in his bed, probably regretting he ever came to Dargoth in the first place.”
“Well we have to plan something for his birthday anyway,” said The Moonhound. “We cannot just sit and do nothing.”
“We could arrange a small party for him,” said Monshikka. “Something dreadful he will absolutely love.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Blackbird. “We can plan it tonight.”
Misty lowered his head and picked at his food. “I wonder what we could give him?”
“I have no clue,” said Monshikka. “The only thing I ever hear him mentioning he’d like on occasion is a night with you. And since he is not likely to get it, we shall have to think of something else.”
***---***
Arrowsmith spent a few hours in a chair before the open window in a padded chair, watching the rain pour down onto the wide stone balcony, listening to the thunder. He loved thunder; it was one of the few great pleasures in his life now that Infamous was gone. He drank a bottle of wine, feeling the damp, cold breeze against his skin, watching as the sheer white curtain billowed. Then, weary, drunk and depressed, he removed his clothes and slid into bed.
“Twenty years,” he muttered. “Bloody prison sentence.” He turned his head and looked towards the life-sized portrait of The Master Thief on the wall, wearing his formal robes, his faithful grey wolf beside him. Arrowsmith tried to feel a little glad that the animal who had so mourned his master was now with him, but he just felt worse that now he didn’t have his company.
“Hurry home, love,” said Arrowsmith softly. “I miss you.”
He pulled the covers up a little higher, cold, but unwilling to close the window and muffle the sound of the storm. He mused at how he was becoming more and more Dargothian with every passing lifetime; even absorbing their beliefs and myths. Thunderstorms were beloved of the Moon Goddess, life-giving rain mixed with the noise of war; a powerful reminder of life and death. To not take a moment to appreciate one was an offense to the goddess. A very very small offense, and one not likely to risk any sort of retribution, but an offense all the same.
Arrowsmith reached over to the small bedside table and hit the play button on his little CD player, then flopped comfortably into his pillow. He smiled as he recognized the piece of music he happened to have in the small device; Harold Budd’s ‘Lovely Thunder’. He couldn’t have chosen a better piece if he had tried.
He heard the bedroom door quietly open, then close. There was the soft tread of booted feet moving over the black marble floor, then hopping lightly over the huge floor pillows. Arrowsmith grinned, recognizing the step.
“Hello, Misty,” he said.
The footsteps paused. “How did you know it was me?”
“Because Monshikka always hits the table, The Moonhound stomps across the pillows, and Blackbird lights a candle so he doesn’t fall down and snap a bone.”
“I came to say I’m sorry I forgot it was your birthday.”
“It’s okay, Mist, I think I needed just to spend a little time by myself.”
“Want some company now?”
He smiled slightly. “Sure, snuggle up.”
He flipped the covers back, long used to this particular aspect of Dargothian nature. Where he came from, having your friends crawl into your bed for a nap was considered odd at best. Here, no one would think twice about it. And Arrowsmith had to admit, a night with Misty sprawled comfortably across his back sounded pretty nice.
He listened to him undress, then recalled he himself was naked. He groaned at the thought of having to put something on. He sat up.
“Hang on a sec, here, I’m naked.”
He felt Misty sit on the bed next to him, resting his hand on Arrowsmith’s shoulder and gently pushing him back to the mattress. “It’s okay, so am I.”
Arrowsmith fell back to the pillow, wide awake and cold sober. He felt the half-Elf lay down beside him, moving close, his warm silky skin brushing his own.
‘I’m dreaming,’ thought Arrowsmith. ‘Or hallucinating. Or somebody drugged my beer. No way I am laying here with Misty Foxsworth coming on to me.’
He felt Misty shift a little closer, and felt something soft tickle his shoulder. Arrowsmith reached up to scratch, and his fingers met with the end of a length of velvet ribbon. He tugged at it gently, realizing it was tied around Misty’s neck.
“What’s this?” Arrowsmith asked, still completely unable to accept what was going on.
“I thought it was the custom where you come from to wrap birthday gifts.”
Arrowsmith felt his body do two distinct things; half of him yelled ‘OH YEAH!!!’; and the other part said; ‘Did I actually just hear that?’ He looked at Misty.
“Did I just hear that?”
“You don’t want me?”
“Do I want you?! YES, I want you. I’ve wanted you for years, lifetimes even. I can’t tell you the sheer number of trees my fantasies would kill if I wrote them down. But Misty, you don’t sleep with men. You’ve made that very clear. And… as much as right now I would like to act every single one of them out… I… I’m not sure I can just… oh crap I have a chivalrous streak, where the hell did that come from?”
“That would be me,” said Seth.
“Seth I would really appreciate it if you would find something ELSE to do for the next twenty-four hours.”
“And miss this? I want the little roundheels as well, you know.”
“Seth…”
“Fine. I shall leave. But I expect a full report.”
Arrowsmith sighed heavily, then looked over at Misty, who was laughing. Arrowsmith couldn’t help but grin himself.
“Misty I want you. That is very true. But I can’t just… use you.”
Misty gently trailed his fingers through Arrowsmith’s long hair. His face had not aged over the years, but there were traces of silver-grey in the golden brown hair. He smiled at Arrowsmith, with the warmth and affection born of many years of close friendship. He kissed his forehead.
“I know,” Misty said softly. “That’s why I’m here.”
Outside, the thunder rumbled quietly, and the rain splattered on the stone balcony. Arrowsmith pulled Misty a little closer, his movements tentative, as though he was uncertain his friend would actually allow this to happen. He could see the strange Elven eyes glittering at him in the dark, flashing green and blue like dragon scales. Arrowsmith reached out to touch the long gold hair, then drew him down to kiss him.
Misty relaxed against him, responding to the kiss shyly. He laid his hand on Arrowsmith’s broad chest, and was a little surprised at how hard his heart was beating. He slid his hand up to stroke the side of Arrowsmith’s neck, his sensitive fingers detecting the rapid pulse. He kissed him again, a little more assertively this time, glad Arrowsmith so far was willing to let him guide the pace of their encounter.
‘I’m out of my mind,’ thought Misty. Then Arrowsmith shifted his position to draw Misty closer against himself, and the half-Elf felt something hot and disconcertingly large and hard brush against him. ‘I’m definitely out of my mind!’
Arrowsmith’s hand moved down Misty’s back, spanning almost the width of it. ‘Good creation Mother Goddess he’s a ten-weight* heavier and two spans** taller than me, what was I drinking to make me think this was a good idea?’
Arrowsmith shifted again, moving over top of Misty, kissing him with a gentle intensity. Misty could hear him breathing, could feel the movement of the large chest as he breathed. He’d always known Arrowsmith was big, but in the dark, lying beneath him with his erect penis touching him, he seemed gigantic.
‘I’mmmmm… going to die,’ thought Misty. “I’ll be found crushed to death with an odd expression on my face, I know it.’
Arrowsmith lowered his head to kiss Misty’s face, sensing his friend’s unspoken discomfort. “Hey, Misty. It’s okay. We can stop.”
‘Oh thank the Creator I thought I was doomed,’ thought Misty. Then he heard himself say; “No I’m all right.”
“You’re sure.”
Misty reached up to move a tendril of hair out of Arrowsmith’s face, seriously considering leaving. Then he shook his head. “I’m fine, really. A little nervous, granted, but fine.”
Arrowsmith kissed him softly. “All right. Hey, who knows, you might find out you like it.”
‘I might find out I’m the illegitimate son of one of the Crystal Mages too but I doubt it,’ thought Misty. “I might,” he said softly.
Arrowsmith grinned at him, then softly kissed Misty, trying to put him at ease. He had a feeling the moment he actually tried to penetrate him, he was going to find himself holding nothing more than a vapor trail. But playing a little slap and tickle with Misty Foxsworth and ending up sexually frustrated was still better than drinking himself into submission and grieving his absent lover. He kissed him, savoring the closeness of a warm living body. He waited until Misty’s nerves settled a little, then moved further downwards, kissing his neck and tracing the graceful curve of his collarbone with his tongue. He felt Misty tense up again.
He softly kissed the skin, then breathed against the golden flesh. “Relax,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you. Don’t be frightened.”
Misty noticed the reassurances had gone from ‘we-can-stop’ to ‘don’t-be-frightened’, a sure sign Arrowsmith’s control center was moving steadily south. Well there was no one to blame for that but himself; Arrowsmith had for years kept his hands and his fantasies to himself, and now in some fit of sympathy-addled brilliance he had dropped himself into his bed wearing nothing but a ribbon.
Misty had always suspected himself of having a daft streak, he had just never realized it was such a wide streak.
Arrowsmith moved slowly, savoring every taste, every scent, every nuance, wanting to keep as much of this night in his mind forever, knowing it was not likely to ever happen again. He nuzzled the silken skin, trailing soft kisses from the collarbone down to one nipple, then lightly closing his lips around it. He bit, ever so lightly, then sucked, his large hands stroking over Misty’s slim strong body. He was a bit surprised to hear a quiet gasp, then feel his hands move into his hair. Arrowsmith grinned.
‘Okay, found one thing he likes, let’s see if there are any other little triggers around here.’
Arrowsmith knew what Infamous liked, but didn’t think his taste for light bondage was something Misty would appreciate. In fact Arrowsmith was fairly certain that if he began pulling out ropes he was going to have a fight on his hands. He tried to think of what Infamous liked that did not involve silk ropes and leather, and, almost by instinct, slid down Misty’s body, using one large hand to draw up his long leg and kiss his inner thigh.
He kissed the thin, heated skin, breathing in his scent, trailing his tongue lightly towards the peak of his thigh. He heard Misty make a quiet sound, then draw up his other thigh with no prompting from Arrowsmith. The invitation was clear, but Arrowsmith decided to tease a little first. He lowered his head, just far enough his breath could warm the hardening penis. Then he used the barest tip of his tongue to touch it before swinging his head to the other thigh.
“That,” said Misty, “was cruel.”
Arrowsmith kissed and nibbled warm flesh. “You think so? Should I have perhaps done this instead?” He returned to the penis and gave it a slow, velvet lick with his tongue, then took the head between his lips.
Misty gasped hoarsely. “Oh yes!”
Arrowsmith slid his lips off of Misty’s penis. “In a minute,” he said blithely, and went back to nibbling Misty’s thigh instead.
“Bastard.”
“Hey, you’re my birthday cake, I can eat you however I want.”
Misty laughed quietly, and Arrowsmith felt a little better knowing he wasn’t the only one enjoying this. “Y’know, I could never figure out which part of you I would like to chew on more. I might just have to taste all of you.”
He moved up to kiss Misty, firmly this time, holding him close. He tangled his fingers into the long gold hair, and felt his heart do something strange in his chest as Misty returned the kiss, parting his lips to let their tongues meet, sliding his arms around the larger man’s neck. Arrowsmith slid his hands down his lean body, feeling every bone and sinew, every flex of hard muscle.
He began kissing and licking his way down Misty’s body, moving slowly, taking his time. He paused to nibble and suck his nipples again, enjoying the way Misty squirmed beneath him. Finally he settled between his thighs and lowered his head to take the stiff penis before him into his mouth.
Misty made a quiet cry, reaching down to stroke Arrowsmith’s long hair, slowly moving his hips as Arrowsmith sucked, lightly at first, then harder, but always taking care not to bring him to climax. At one point he broke off to reach for something resting on the lid of the carved wooden bench at the foot of the bed, but before Misty could think much about it, he was once more deep within the hot wet confines of his mouth, and he didn’t give a damn what Arrowsmith had picked up. Until he smelled a very familiar aroma, one that could only be the pleasure oil sold in certain shops in 250-Mile-House. Then he began to feel a little nervous again.
His feeling of nervousness increased as Arrowsmith moved over top of him, bracing his large body above Misty on his forearms. He kissed him, a quick, reassuring pressing of lips, then tossed his head back, concentrating on being as careful as he could be as he slowly entered Misty.
Misty reflexively clutched Arrowsmith, pressing his face against his chest and closing his eyes. Like everything else on Arrowsmith, his penis was large and long, and feeling it enter was not only frightening but painful. He shivered, then felt Arrowsmith settle over him, holding him close and kissing his face softly.
“You’re okay,” he whispered.
“I’m going to die.”
“No you’re not, Misty. Just breathe, relax. You’ll be okay.” He kissed his lips. “Honestly.”
Misty held onto him tightly, saying nothing. He felt the tensing of muscles beneath his hands as Arrowsmith began moving inside him, slowly and carefully, speaking softly to him and gently kissing his face as he did.
It took Misty a little while to realize he was not being hurt as much as he thought he was, and he eventually relaxed the death grip he had on Arrowsmith, lying back against the pillows with his long hair pooling around his face, watching the man above him. He recalled Infamous once saying that if Arrowsmith ever broke his arm he wouldn’t be able to have sex, because he used his whole body to do it. Misty had never understood that remark until now. Watching the large man braced over him, his head lowered, moving like a snake on a branch as he thrust into him, he could finally see what Infamous meant.
“Come closer,” Misty said softly, “I’m afraid down here by myself.”
Arrowsmith lowered himself, sliding his hands into Misty’s hair and kissing him, still being careful not to put too much of his weight on him. Misty put his arms around him and allowed himself to relax, resting his face against Arrowsmith’s shoulder. He smiled slightly as he listened to the quiet animal sounds his friend made, occasionally feeling a tension run through him that meant he wanted to become rougher, more intense in his passion, but always holding back, not wanting to hurt the smaller man beneath him.
Misty wasn’t exactly sure what was turning him on about making love with Arrowsmith; whether it was the actual act, or having control over someone so damn powerful. All he had to do was utter the smallest cry, flinch the tiniest bit, and Arrowsmith would ease off, lowering his head to gently nuzzle and reassure him. A bit of both, he supposed, but as his trust in the situation grew, he found himself wanting to see the man Infamous had been making love with all these years. He grinned, then whispered softly; “I’m okay, you can let go.”
Arrowsmith kissed him hard, biting him lightly. He pushed further into him, his movements becoming harder and more intense. Misty heard himself cry out, surprised at the intensity of his own response. Mistaking the sound for discomfort, Arrowsmith asked; “Are you okay?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
‘That would be a ‘yes’, I take it,’ thought Arrowsmith.
He felt Misty bite his shoulder, and not gently either. Arrowsmith never would have figured him for a biter. Or a screamer. But Misty was definitely both. What he was screaming, Arrowsmith had no clue, because he didn’t speak Elvish. But he got the distinct impression Misty was not disliking his first time with a man as much as he had thought he would.
Suddenly Misty bit him, a barely-restrained bite, his teeth pressing into Arrowsmith’s skin. Then he yelled something in Elvish as his semen spilled onto himself and Arrowsmith. He collapsed into the bedding, panting, as Arrowsmith began reaching his own climax. He drew his legs up to allow him to penetrate deeper, then closed his eyes, wanting to experience having him orgasm inside of him.
He listened to his breathing; loud and heavy like some great animal. He heard him gasp, then swallow, then finally lower his head and kiss his neck. Arrowsmith then cried out, clutching him hard, thrusting inside of him, then shivering. He made a sharp, sobbing sound, then went still and silent, shuddering occasionally. Finally he slowly collapsed on top of Misty, and kissed him. He smiled at him, and pushed the gold hair back from Misty’s face. He kissed the tip of his nose.
“You all right?”
“Yeah,” said Misty. “I mean, better than I thought I would be.”
“Good.” Arrowsmith kissed him again, then carefully moved off of him. Misty rolled towards him, resting his head on the large man’s shoulder. Arrowsmith grinned, then kissed the top of his head. “That was definitely worth the wait.”
Misty felt something damp against his neck. He reached up, and felt the velvet ribbon, still tied about his throat. He untied it and set it on the bedside table, then snuggled close to his friend. Outside the large window, the rain still drummed softly on the balcony, and the thunder made a low rumble. He pulled the covers up a little higher, then lay his head down upon Arrowsmith’s broad chest. Misty smiled as he felt the large hand reach up to stroke his hair. Curled together, they drifted into slumber, listening to lovely thunder.
***---***
* A weight is roughly ten pounds. A two-weight; 20. Keep adding, you can do it.
** Span; about six inches. |
