Nobbin knew very well how to get out of the barn, across the field, and through the town streets to the smith’s. So he did that, leaping easily over the fence, trotting toward town with focused purpose. Even with his sore knees -- which really weren’t that sore, he just liked the warm poultices -- he made better time than he usually did with Master.
Martin the Smith was busy, banking his fires, cooling his tools, generally cleaning up after a long day of work. Nobbin trotted right up to the closed gate in front of the house and rested his chin on it.
He stood there for a few minutes, waiting for the smith to notice him, but the big man seemed overly focused on what he was doing. Which, at the moment, involved clattering his tools together and muttering angry words under his breath. Some of those words sounded much like Nobbin’s master’s name. That could be either bad or good, Nobbin decided, and snorted softly to catch the smith’s attention.
The smith jumped, dropping a pan of iron tongs to the floor with a loud clatter. Nobbin flinched, disturbed by the loud noise but willing to overlook it for the moment. At least he had the smith’s attention now.
“’Tis you,” the big man said. He walked toward Nobbin and gently patted his nose. “Why is it you’re here, then?” He fished in a pocket and produced a chunk of apple, which Nobbin lipped from his fingers happily. This was a good man. This was a man who needed to spend as much time as possible with Master. The apple was a bit dusty from riding in the smith’s pocket, but it was sweet, and it tasted good to Nobbin.
The smith rubbed Nobbin’s nose. “We’d best be getting you home, then.”
He sounded reluctant. Nobbin gave a snort of approval; the sooner the better, he thought. There was no telling what that misbegotten Queen of Fairies might be up to with the master.
* * *
Titania had one hand down Tad’s trousers, and the other one fluttering in front of his eyes, sparkling light weaving and dancing around her fingers. Tad backed up another step, until his back hit the wall and he could go no farther. Still Titania maintained her hold on him.
“Now, now, dear Mr. Merryman,” the fairy queen crooned. Her fingers groped and searched inside his pants. “Where are you hiding my wee friend?”
In fact, Tad had no idea where his cock had disappeared to. It seemed to be hiding, as if dreading having to endure again the touch of Titania’s nimble fairy fingers.
“Perhaps it takes exception to you calling it ‘wee’,” he suggested. The description was, after all, quite unfair. He’d frightened many a virgin lad with the size of his “wee” friend.
Titania made a face, her fingers burrowing deeper. He would have grabbed her arm and jerked her free of him, but the magic she wove in his face seemed to make this not a viable option. “Come out, little one,” she coaxed.
“It’s no’ little, I’ll promise ye that.”
Tad jumped at the words, which came from outside his window, and which had been spoken by a low, rumbling voice that made his heart stutter in his chest.
“Martin?” Tad’s voice came out in an undignified squeak. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you, ’twould appear.” He frowned balefully in at the scene, then his face disappeared from the frame of the small window. A few seconds later, Tad’s door flew open.
“Unhand him!” Martin demanded. His hugeness overwhelmed the room, but not, apparently, the fairy queen.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. We were just going to have a bit of a romp.”
Martin stalked closer. Tad looked up at him, startled again by his size. It had been a few days since he’d seen the smith and everything about him seemed new and amazing again, from his hugely wide shoulders to his narrow hips and the bulge in his trousers.
“Oh!” said Titania. “And here’s the wee fellow, come out to play.” She winked at Tad. “You’re right, lad. Not so wee at all.”
“I said unhand him!” Martin bellowed.
Anger rose in Titania’s eyes, and she turned to face the big smith. “How dare you!” she snapped.
“How dare I?” he growled back. “How dare ye! Are you the reason I’ve no’ seen him for nigh on a seven-day? Are you the reason he’ll no’ come to me anymore?”
She crossed her arms indignantly under her breasts, plumping them alarmingly. Tad wasn’t sure her dress would be able to keep them under control. “What if I am?”
“Then let him be, for you’ve ensorcelled him.” Martin loomed over her, but she seemed unintimidated.
“Hmph. Perhaps I’ve only caught his fancy with my charm and beauty.”
Martin snorted. “’Tis nay likely. Let him go. He belongs to me, he does.”
Tad’s face flashed hot, and he stared at the smith, unbelieving. “What did you say?” he burst out.
Titania eyed them both, fury blazing in her eyes.
Martin looked at Tad, his bluster abruptly disappearing. He looked uncertain now, shifting from foot to foot, his fingers tangling with each other as if they didn’t know what to do with themselves.
“Well, if you’re of a mind,” he stammered. “Or could be the other way round, you see…”
“Oh, good bloody fucking God!” Titania threw her hands up, pink and purple fairy dust scattering everywhere. “You two are a couple of complete morons.”
“Hey!” Tad protested.
Martin just looked at her, his face screwed up. Tad wasn’t sure if the big man was about to cry, or try to kill her.
“If it’s her you want,” Martin went on, his voice quieter now, choked. His gaze remained fixed on Titania, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at Tad. “I’ll step away.”
Tad shook his head. “I don’t want her. I’ve never wanted her. She just for some reason has decided to interfere with my life and make me miserable.”
Titania tapped her foot, her eyes narrowing. “I could make you more miserable.”
Tad made a face. “Thanks, but no, thanks.”
Martin finally dragged his eyes to meet Tad’s. “You’re no’ wanting her?”
“No. Not in any way.”
“I could find that terribly insulting.” The fairy queen didn’t seem to enjoy being left out of the conversation.
Tad wheeled on her, exasperated. “How many times have I got to tell you? I don’t like girls!”
“Right. You seemed to like me all right at Midsummer.”
Tad thought he was going to explode. “I was under a spell, you meddling fae bitch! Now go away and leave me alone! Leave your fucking curse for all I care! Just go!”
“Curse?” Martin enquired, but no one answered. Tad was still in high dudgeon from his outburst, and Titania’s expression had darkened to a glower as she regarded the young farmer.
“I don’t care to be spoken to in that way,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. She moved menacingly toward Tad, lifting one hand, purple and pink light growing around her fingertips.
“Get away from him!” Martin burst out.
The fairy queen turned and hissed at him. Gritting his teeth in anger, Martin grabbed the small twist of iron around his neck, broke the cord, and threw it at her.
Titania saw it coming, but not soon enough to react. The small iron bauble ripped through her. With a scream, she dispersed into a shimmer of fairy-lit magic.
Tad was silent for a long moment, looking at the place where Titania had been. “Is she… is she… dead?” he finally managed.
Martin shook his head. “Nay. Merely away from us for a time.” He went to retrieve the bit of iron, which Tad now recognized as the practice piece he’d made when he’d stayed with Martin. He couldn’t believe Martin had kept it; his chest went warm with the thought.
“What did you do?”
Martin tied the cord back around his neck, letting the pendant fall to his chest. “Fairies are a wee bit allergic to iron.”
Tad nodded. In the back of his mind, he supposed he’d known that, but he hadn’t been clever enough to use the knowledge to their advantage.
Tad sighed. “I don’t even know. For some reason she decided to torment me. First there was the thing in the forest, and then the curse --”
“What curse?” Martin broke in. “Tell me of the curse.”
So Tad told him the whole sordid story, from the interlude in the forest, when he’d been ensorcelled and seduced and used, to the curse, and Titania’s promise to restore him to his normal self if he never saw Martin again. As he spoke, he poured ale, put out plates of cheese and bread, until they were huddled over the table like a long-standing couple conversing about nothing more important than the day’s work.
Martin’s expression, though, had gone dour and doubtful. “You were with me only because of the curse?”
Tad considered. He could have told Martin the question was irrelevant, but in too many ways it wasn’t.
“I truly thought so at first.” He decided on truth. “I’ve taken many men, but I never wanted one to take me, until the curse.”
Martin nodded, a resigned look on his face. “I see. I’ll be going, then.”
He started to get up, but Tad grabbed his arm. “Sit down, you great lout.” He was angry now, at Martin, and Titania, at himself. “I said I thought so at first. But then she lifted the curse, and I still wanted you.”
A spark of hope lit in the big smith’s eyes. “And are you wanting me now?”
Tad suddenly couldn’t quite seem to draw enough air, certainly not enough to make actual words. “Yes. Very much.”
“I’m wanting you, too,” Martin answered, his plain frankness making Tad shiver with expectation.
“Are you wanting me right now?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.
But Martin’s answer was more than satisfactory. “Oh, aye. Now and always.”
Tad smiled. “I don’t know how to make this work for us. I’ve never been with someone in a long-term arrangement.”
Martin nodded soberly. “’Tis all right. We’ll be working out the details as we go, aye?”
“Aye,” Tad answered, and Martin pulled him close and kissed him.
“Have you a bed?” Martin asked, his hands growing insistent as they tugged at Tad’s shirt.
“Of course I’ve a bed,” Tad answered, and backed his way toward it. There wasn’t much to his little cottage, but he at least had a small bedroom, and a bed sturdy enough not to break when the two of them fell into it. Martin jerked Tad’s shirt off him, pinning him to the straw tick mattress, kissing him hard.
Suddenly, the smith pulled back. “I should ask…”
“Ask what?”
“The curse… she lifted it?”
“She said she did.”
“Then…” He paused a moment, as if working up to something. “You can take me then, if you like.”
Tad blinked at him. He considered the offer carefully, rolled the thought around in his head for a few seconds, then finally shook his head. “No. It’s all right.”
Martin frowned. “You’re certain?”
With a satisfied smile, Tad nodded. “I am. I want us just as we are.” He reached up and brushed a hand down Martin’s jaw. “But thank you for offering
The smith’s slow smile warmed his face and Tad’s heart. Gently, Martin kissed Tad again. “You’ve all we need here?”
“There’s a bit of oil on the table there.” He nodded toward the makeshift table next to the bed. Martin found what he needed and leaned back into Tad.
“You’re sure?” he asked again.
Tad scooted under him, wrapping his legs around the big man’s hips. “I am.”
With a feral grin, Martin dipped his head and bit Tad’s neck lightly. Tad yelped, and the smith chuckled, then pushed a hand down inside Tad’s trousers and stroked his thickening cock. “I’d roll you over,” he murmured.
“Then do.”
Martin’s big hands turned him over on his stomach. He pressed his face down into his pillow, smiling as Martin stroked his hips, his back. He loved the way Martin touched him. Loved the soft murmuring voice that breathed against his back. Martin kissed Tad’s shoulder blades, the back of his neck, one hand kneading Tad’s buttock. The smith’s thumb pressed against his entrance, teasing. Tad arched back against the contact, welcoming it. The thumb moving almost inside him reminded him of their first time, he face down on the hay bale, waiting to be deflowered. The thought made him chuckle.
“What?” Martin asked.
“Nothing,” said Tad. “Just fuck me.”
Warm oil touched Tad’s skin, and soon Martin had obliged, sliding inside Tad. They came together as if they had been lovers for years, Tad meeting each of Martin’s movements with practiced ease. The comfortable familiarity made it so good, so easy. Tad felt himself opening for Martin as Martin moved deeper, faster, as Tad clenched the pillow with his fists and pressed it against his mouth.
“Am I hurting you, lad?” Martin’s lips brushed the back of his neck, the words soft and concerned.
“No,” Tad answered hastily. “God, no.”
“Good.” Martin reached under Tad’s hip and found his hard cock. He stroked it, ran his thumb over the slick head, at the same time driving deep inside Tad’s willing body. Tad’s back arched, his cock stiffened, and he came with a high, keening moan. Behind him, Martin chuckled.
* * *
Out in the barn, Nobbin heard his master yowl with pleasure. If a horse could smile, he would have done, but he couldn’t, so he closed his eyes and went happily to sleep.
Elizabeth Jewell
Elizabeth Jewell is the author of a growing collection of paranormal and contemporary erotic novels and novellas. She’s been writing since before she could read, and has given in to the fact that she’s completely addicted to the process of composing fiction -- especially hot, steamy, paranormal fiction. Elizabeth lives in Colorado with her kids and an annoying ferret named Spike. You can visit her website at http://elizabethjewell.kabeka.com and read her blog at http://elizabethjewell.blogspot.com
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