“I’m trying,” Tad protested. Martin’s big hands closed around his on the handle of the hammer, guiding it as he struck the piece of iron on the anvil. The impact jarred Tad to his teeth. “Gracious.”
Martin chuckled. “You’re liking that, are you?”
“It’s… interesting.”
“’Tis nearly done.” They jointly brought the hammer down again, while Martin turned the piece of iron with his tongs. “There.” He lifted it and plunged it into the bucket of water next to the anvil. Steam rose with a harsh hiss.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, really.” Martin lifted the piece again, showing Tad the curled piece of iron he held in the tongs. “Just a bit of metal.”
Tad nodded. It was small, about the right size to be hung on a leather thong and worn around the neck, and something about the curve of it pleased him. “I like it.”
“Good.” Martin dropped it back on the anvil. “You should be proud. You’ve done it yourself.”
“Not really. You did most of it.”
“Nonsense, lad.” Martin gave him an affectionate smile. “’Twas a practice piece, and you did well.” He picked the bit up and dunked it in the water again, then lifted it, testing the heat carefully with his finger. “There. All set, it is.” Fishing in it pocket, he withdrew a piece of string and threaded it through the bit of iron, tying the two ends together. He handed it to Tad. “There you are.”
Tad shook his head. “I want you to keep it.”
Martin’s eyebrows rose in surprise, then his smile turned deeply warm. “Thank you.” He settled it over his head, seeming moved by the gift.
Tentatively, Tad reached out and touched his hand. “I know you’ve work waiting, and likely customers outside your gate, but…”
“No need to ask twice.” Eagerness vibrated in Martin’s voice, and before Tad knew what was happening, the big smith lifted him off his feet, draped him over one shoulder, and carried him back into the house, then upstairs to the bedroom.
He dropped Tad on his back on the bed; Tad struck it with a muffled “Oof,” then another one as Martin landed on top of him. Then he could say nothing, because Martin was kissing him, hard and furious, his hand pushing down the front of Tad’s trews.
Tad reached for Martin’s shirt, trying to rip it off him, not wanting anything between his skin and the blacksmith’s. Martin cooperated, letting Tad strip him, at the same time jerking Tad’s clothes off. The smith was hot, slicked with a sheen of sweat. He smelled of smoke and metal. Tad leaned up again to kiss him, eager.
“You could stay,” Martin said, his voice thick, his tone making it clear he knew Tad’s answer.
“Can’t.” His teeth caught Martin’s lower lip.
“I know.”
Tad rubbed his thumbs over Martin’s nipples, the flat nubs rising taut and hard under the contact. Martin’s hips wedged between Tad’s thighs. The big smith hooked a hand under Tad’s knee, lifting his leg back.
Even after three days in Martin’s bed -- and in his barn, and once over the kitchen table -- Tad tensed at first when Martin maneuvered him into position. As many times as he’d done this to other men, it still felt strange and awkward to have it done to him. Martin shushed him right away, stroking the backs of his thighs as he eased them over his wide shoulders. Tad took a long breath and made his body loosen. Only when Tad was relaxed did Martin move closer, leaning down onto his splayed thighs.
“All right?” he asked. He always asked, stopped when Tad tensed, went faster when Tad begged for it, made sure Tad found pleasure and release. He was an admirably considerate lover -- probably more considerate than Tad had ever been, though Tad would be hard pressed to admit it.
“Fine,” Tad answered quietly, his hands stroking up the blacksmith’s sides. Martin kissed him again, adjusting their bodies until they meshed neatly together, before reaching for the oil. Tad’s erection pressed steely-hard against Martin’s stomach, his body aching to feel the other man inside him. He wanted. Sometimes the wanting scared him. He had always acted on plain lust. This seemed like something more. Had that thrice-damned fairy played magical havoc with his emotions, as well? Or was he truly coming to care for the smith? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Martin’s fingers trailed warm oil over him, preparing him. He needed much less coddling now, and within moments Martin’s thick, blunt cock was pressing inside him. Tad opened his legs wider, back arching, moaning curses as he was slowly penetrated.
“You’ll want it deep then, aye?” Martin murmured, watching Tad’s face as he sank deeper and deeper inside.
Tad nodded. “Yes. God, yes… deep. Hard, too, if you please.”
Martin chuckled. And took him. Deep and hard.
The bed rattled with the force of their fucking, slamming back against the wall with each powerful thrust. Tad reached up to grab the rough-hewn headboard, steadying himself while Martin pounded into him again and again, until Tad’s voice keened high and raw and he shot hot come over himself and his straining lover. Martin laughed out loud and came, as well, wedged deep inside Tad’s body. Tad could feel the blacksmith’s big cock pulse and jerk, and welcomed the warm flood of Martin’s climax.
Spent, Martin lowered his head again, softly kissing Tad’s forehead. “You’ll come back when you can, aye?” His voice was gentle.
Tad nodded. “Aye.”
* * *
Nobbin was not pleased. He’d been comfortable and well taken care of at the blacksmith’s stable. As the days had passed and his master had not taken him home, he’d grown more and more hopeful that they would take up permanent residence here. He’d been even more hopeful when he’d seen his master allow the good smith to mount him. Surprised and a bit perplexed, but still hopeful.
And now here he was again in his old stall. It was pleasant enough, he supposed -- he couldn’t deny his master took good care of him -- but he knew from the quiet, apologetic mumblings, as well as the time his master spent polishing the harness, that he would soon be working again.
Of course the idyllic interruption had been too good to last. He should have known.
His master came to his stall to give him an apple and scratch his ears. Nobbin took the apple and gave his master a desolate look. The master only made more sympathetic noises, patted him a bit more, then returned to the cottage, leaving Nobbin alone.
The horse shook his head and sighed in disgust and disappointment.
Humans.
Chapter Four
Tad was up before the sun the next day. In the cold early morning, he trudged to the stable to ready Nobbin for the day’s work.
It had taken all he had in him to leave Martin’s house the day before. They’d kissed again and again, mumbling promises and endearments to each other to the last minute. Tad hadn’t cared that he’d never spoken such drivel to anyone in his life, or that he was acting like a heartstruck girl. He only knew he didn’t want to leave, but that he had to go back to his life, before he lost all his hard-won work in the town and ended up destitute.
Nobbin seemed even more stubborn and morose than usual, and at first Tad thought perhaps he’d hurt his leg again. A quick examination showed no swelling, though, so he finished buckling up the harness and led Nobbin out.
In the dark morning, Nobbin let out a cold, vaporous whinny and set all four feet into the ground. He refused to move. Tad sighed.
“Bloody, insolent creature,” he grumbled. “Have you no loyalty to he who buys your feed and keeps your stable? You’d move for the smith, wouldn’t you?”
Nobbin only snorted and planted his hooves all the harder.
“Just like his master.” The derisive, chuckling voice rose from the dark, and Tad shivered. He knew that voice. Peering into the still dim morning, he tried to make out its owner.
“Lady Titania?”
Icy chills went down his back. Curse or no, he’d thought himself forever free of the fairy queen. Had even dared to hope perhaps she’d decided to mea
nder back to Athens. And if the curse was working out all right for him, what with his discovery of the smith, well, so much the better.
She stepped out of the shadows into a bar of growing sunlight. She was tall and pale and beautiful and he very much wanted her to go away.
“You remember me,” she said, her voice sweet and melodic.
“How could I forget you, my lady queen?” His attempt to keep the sarcasm out of his voice failed miserably.
She gave him an indulgent smile. “I’ve thought of you many times since we parted.” She stepped closer to him, until he could smell her spring-sweet fairy-woman aroma. “I feel bad about how things went between us, Tad. I’ve come to make amends.”
“Amends?” He eyed her warily. She looked sincere -- a little -- but she was Titania, and Tad didn’t trust her any farther than he could throw Martin the Gigantic Smith. “I don’t understand.”
“It was cruel of me to change your basic nature. A top is a top, and I should have known you’d be unhappy as anything else. I’ve come to remove the curse.”
“Remove --?” He broke off. There was something in Titania’s eyes that made him hesitate. “What’s the catch?”
The fairy queen tsked. “I’m hurt you don’t trust me, Tad. Truly I am.”
“I have reason not to trust you.” His tone was a bit too harsh. He swallowed, nervous now, fearing Titania’s reaction. “No offense.”
She gave a low chuckle. The rising sun cast an orange-pink glow on her skin; day was not far off now. “None taken, of course.”
There was a moment of silence. “So…” Tad finally ventured. “What’s the catch?”
Titania sobered, her expression shifting from amused to near anger. “I’ll remove the curse, give you your old life back, with all the pleasures you’ve grown used to, if you never see Martin the Smith again.”
Tad gaped at her. “But… I’ll have to see him. I’ve a horse, and he’s the smith.”
She glared. “Fine. But you’ll not let him fuck you again.”
Tad was silent. He didn’t know how to answer her. It should have been simple. He’d only just met the smith. It wasn’t as if he’d planned a happy sort of future with him. Men like Tad didn’t get that. They got furtive fucks behind barns, and in the end they gave in and took wives, to be the way everyone else expected them to be.
But Martin… Something about the big smith made Tad wonder if he could have more. If he could build a happy life with someone he truly cared about, rather than making a fake life to hide behind, and satisfying his true desires only when it seemed safe.
Probably the best reason of all to take Titania up on her offer, and remove himself from Martin forever. Because Martin made him want things he knew he couldn’t have, and away from him, back under the influence of real life, any lovestruck stories he’d spun in his head while he was under the smith scattered like so much fairy dust.
He swallowed. The thought sent a rush of panic through him. But he had to be realistic about what he could expect from life, about what life was likely to expect from him.
Finally, he tipped his head in obeisance to the fairy queen. “I humbly request that you leave me the day to consider your gracious offer.”
Her mouth curled into a smirk. “’Tis fair enough. I’ll return, then, at sunset, to receive your answer.”
With a wave of her hand, she disappeared. A drift of sparkling dust marked where she had been.
Tad sneezed. Only a few hours to decide. Suddenly the long stretch of the day before him seemed like only a few minutes. With a sigh, he coaxed Nobbin to the wagon and went on about his work.
* * *
Toward the end of the day, Nobbin seemed to not be making full use of his leg again. Tad supposed it could have been his imagination, his brain manufacturing an excuse to see Martin again, but he stubbornly refused to entertain that notion. Nobbin was limping again, however slightly. A trip to the smith’s was definitely in order.
He seemed surer on his feet the closer they got to town, though. By the time they arrived at the smith’s yard, Tad was beginning to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.
Martin was busy. Townsfolk were lined up with horses, swords, kitchen utensils, waiting their turn. Tad stepped into the line.
He didn’t know what he’d expected. Wasn’t even completely sure why he’d come, especially since the horse seemed to be fine now. But as he stood there waiting for the smith to acknowledge him, his stomach began to clench up, and a slow, painful ache began to move through him, like an infection taking hold in his blood.
Martin knew how to give his customers what they wanted. He flattered and flirted with the women, slapped the men companionably on the shoulder. And when he finally looked up and caught Tad’s eye, he offered a slight smile and nothing else.
Tad’s hands clenched on Nobbin’s reins, his stomach sinking lower and lower. This was all it would ever be. He meant no more to the smith than did anyone else. Their encounter had been no more meaningful than any of the other furtive fucks Tad had allowed himself through the course of his twenty-odd summers. There was nothing new or different or particularly meaningful about what had happened between them.
The kernel of hope that had grown unbidden in his chest withered and died a quiet, mournful death. There was nothing for him here -- nothing that wouldn’t turn out like every other encounter he’d ever had. There was no room for a true relationship in his life, or Martin’s, or in the town where they must live out their days.
He waited a few minutes longer, but Martin, playfully ogling a milkmaid and making her blush, didn’t look up at him again. Finally Tad took up Nobbin’s reins and took him back home.
* * *
Titania met him in the lane in front of his farmhouse. She sat carefully examining her nails in a flower-bedecked bower which hadn’t been there before. She looked up as Tad and Nobbin approached and offered them a brilliant smile.
“You’ve made your decision, then?” she asked.
Tad nodded, unable to speak the words.
“Oh, good. I thought you’d come to your senses.”
He just looked at her. “Take the curse away.”
Her smile turned feral. “Done.”
Chapter Five
He didn’t feel any different. Three days had passed, and even though Titania had performed her spell, sprinkling him with fairy dust, then touching him on the forehead and leaving him poleaxed into unconsciousness on the ground, Tad remained miserable.
All he could think about was Martin. The way his big, commanding hands had taken control, maneuvering Tad into submission. Tad had never bent over for another man in his life, had never considered it, thinking it completely contrary to his nature. Now, even with the curse supposedly gone, all he could think about was lying facedown on a hay bale while Martin fucked him into near-unconsciousness. He’d never wanted such a thing before. Now it was the only thing he wanted.
Almost a week after Titania’s visit, Tad and Nobbin trudged in late from delivering wood and other sundries around the town. It had been a profitable day, and Tad should have felt a sense of accomplishment, of gratification, but he just felt empty. He wiped the horse down and put him in his stall, then trudged back to the house, his heart empty and his life a weary burden on his shoulders. He fetched bread and cheese and sat down to eat.
“You don’t look very happy.”
Tad nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see Titania lounging against his door, as beautiful and annoying as ever.
“Go away,” he grumbled.
“Tsk tsk, Tad.” She pushed away from the door and sauntered toward him. “That’s not very gracious. And don’t forget, I am the Queen of the Fairies.”
He sat disgruntled a moment. “Please go away?” he finally ventured.
She merely laughed. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. If you were happy with the decision you made.” She shrugged. “It appears perhaps you’re not. You should be out fucking your share of t
he pretty young men in the village. Instead you’re sitting here… moping.”
“I’m not sitting,” he shot back, then, realizing he actually was sitting, added mopily, “I’m not moping.”
“Oh, dear, of course you’re not.” She closed the remaining distance between them and ran a finger along his jawline. “You’re better off alone, you know. Relationships are just… difficult. More trouble than they’re worth.”
“What did Oberon do now?”
“Oh, the usual. Never thinks of anyone but himself, that one.”
Tad nodded. “So… why are you here?” Maybe she’d actually answer, now that he’d asked the question three times.
The fairy queen laid her hands on Tad’s shoulders. She wavered a little, and he had the sudden impression that she was drunk. What in the hell would make a fairy queen drunk? Whatever it was, it had to be damned good. “Well, as you guessed, Oberon is being insufferable, so I thought to myself, myself -- who would you like to spend an evening with, fucking away like forest creatures, for the sole purpose of making Oberon jealous?”
“And you thought of me?” Tad was more than a little dubious.
“Well, no, I thought of Miles the Butler, but he wasn’t at home. So then I came here.”
Tad rolled his eyes. “I’m not interested. And even if I’d been inclined to be interested, I wouldn’t be after that story.”
Titania pouted. “You are cruel. Heartlessly, painfully cruel. Some would even say mean.”
“I’m sorry,” said Tad. He wasn’t. “But you know me. I don’t even like girls.”
Her expression went harsh, dark. “You will when I’m done with you.”
Tad sighed and rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”
* * *
Nobbin knew there was going to be a problem as soon as he smelled the fairy queen. He didn’t like her. She smelled funny, what with the fairy dust thing, and Nobbin didn’t think she was trustworthy. Worse of all, she seemed to be keeping his master away from the smith, and in Nobbin’s world this was a very bad thing.
So when the fairy queen went into his master’s house and didn’t come back out right away, Nobbin knew something had to be done. At the very best, the smelly, annoying creature was interfering with his master; at the worse, she was compounding whatever situation was brewing between Master and the smith. Nobbin was tired of it. Nobbin wanted sweet oatmeal mash to eat and warm poultices on his sore old knees.
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