by Augusta Li
They kissed then, mouths opening wide and tongues crashing together. Querry held tight to the shoulders of the other, whose fingernails cut Querry’s scalp. He couldn’t feel the floor beneath him as he ground his erection against his partner and tried to catch the gentleman’s tongue with his own. They still spun, still danced, though Querry moved his body only to wriggle closer to the fey, claw at his brocade suit, grasp handfuls of his hair. His breath came in irregular puffs, and the sound of his pulse filled his head. The gentleman’s finger skimmed the buckles of Querry’s vest, and they fell open. Querry tore the garment from his body as if it were on fire, and followed with the rest of his clothes, ripping the buttonholes of his linen shirt in his enthusiasm. In the darkness he stood naked, flushed and sweaty, cock throbbing. The glowing eyes approached him, and silken, strong arms wrapped around him. The gentleman’s body against his felt like a marble statue wrapped in exquisite satin. A patch of downy hair caressed Querry’s belly, and a fine, long cock poked against it. Again lips touched his neck as fingers traced the contours of his legs. Querry circled his hips fitfully, barely clinging to sanity.
“How I’ve waited for this,” the faerie said, swiping his burning tongue over Querry’s Adam’s apple. “To feel your skin. To know your scent.” He inhaled deeply of Querry’s hair. “And now.” Grasping Querry firmly by the shoulders, he guided Querry to his knees.
“Yes!” Querry panted, burrowing his face into sparse hair as soft as pussy willow fuzz, smelling soil and wet mushroom. His tongue flicked out and found the seam between the faerie’s balls. After a few moments of enthusiastic licking, Querry drew them both into his mouth and suckled them, rolling first one, then the other, across the top of his tongue.
The gentleman moaned softly and rubbed circles on the top of Querry’s head. “You came to me, because you know, as I do, that there’s no one else to make a worthy partner for you. These simpletons, butchers and records clerks—”
Withdrawing his mouth and mopping his chin, Querry asked, “What did you say?” Something stirred in his mind at the gentleman’s words, but he couldn’t connect with the thought. It swam out of his grasp like a minnow through a child’s fingers. In only a few seconds, he decided it couldn’t matter nearly as much as the slender fingers winding in his hair, pulling him close, or the velvety cock head pressing against his lips. He opened his mouth to taste the dew seeping from the slit, and purred with satisfaction. Patiently but insistently the gentleman pushed forward, and Querry relaxed his jaw as the wonderful delicacy slipped between his teeth and filled his mouth. He sucked hard, earning another drizzle of come. Querry’s own penis, more painfully swollen than he could ever remember it being, responded in kind. He took hold of the other’s calves, bracing himself to go to work, eager to feel the delightful texture of the gentleman’s skin against his palate, the wonderful friction, the final, delectable explosion of seed.
Querry opened his throat and twisted his face slightly as he plunged toward the faerie’s flat stomach. The other inhaled sharply, his fists closing around Querry’s locks to guide Querry’s motion. He pulled Querry’s head back and then thrust in deep, tickling Querry’s lips and chin with his gilded pubic hair. As they fell into a relaxed rhythm, Querry’s mouth formed a tight vacuum around the gentleman’s cock. His tongue twined around it, lapped at the sensitive underside and around the ledge of the head. Above his forehead, the faerie’s ribs spread as he gulped quick, shallow breaths.
“Querrilous,” he said, scratching the back of the thief’s neck.
Motivated by the sound of his first name spilling from those divine lips, Querry picked up speed, desperate to taste the faerie’s come, and eager to gain release for himself. But before he could accomplish either, he found lips, a tongue had replaced the dick in his mouth. The gentleman knelt facing Querry, his kisses soothing the pleasantly tender places in Querry’s mouth. His soft hand felt out Querry’s cock and squeezed it. Before Querry knew it had happened, he found himself on his back beneath the gentleman with his legs in the air.
The fey spoke sweetly to him, saying, “Here in the dark I can see your hopes and fears spilling out around your edges like light from under a door. I can almost see everything about you.”
“I can only see your eyes.”
The gentleman chuckled. “I see that you’ve had many lovers, Querrilous. Made love to many men. But I also see that you let very few have you. One, in fact, besides myself.”
He continued to talk about Querry’s high standards and his own worthiness, but Querry barely heard. He barely felt the other’s weight on his chest or hands on his body. He was back in the factory, hid behind a triangle of oily canvas. Reg lay beneath him, his legs wrapped tightly around Querry’s body, his pelvis moving in tight loops. Their dirty uniform shirts matched. Beyond their sanctuary Querry heard the chug and hiss of the machines, the drunken shouts of the other workers. He spit into his palm, took hold of his shaft, and guided himself toward Reg’s opening.
“Querry,” Reg said in a trembling voice. “Please, Querry. Let me do it to you this time.”
He’d kissed Reg hard and straddled him. As he lowered his body, wincing at the cleaving sensation, he’d said, through gritted teeth, “Only because I love you.”
“Mr. Knotte, I refuse to make love to you whilst you think about another man.” Querry was alone on the floor, which was cold stone. The gentleman had already stood. In a hazy light, like that which precedes a winter dawn, Querry saw him turn his back and walk away, his shining hair swishing back and forth. Querry was alone in the hall, which was round and lit by a chandelier of clinking crystals. Six arched doorways stood at equal intervals.
Querry went to one and turned the knob. Outside lay a hideous scarlet landscape. Noxious fumes rose from cracks in the parched ground and twisted black trees raised leafless branches toward a sunless sky. Filled with dread, Querry slammed the door.
Next he found a gray sea and sky. Waves lapped at a rocky outcrop many miles long. A single bird call complemented the rhythm of the tide. If the previous scene had filled Querry with terror, then this monochromatic world inspired deep loneliness and melancholy. Sighing, he turned away.
Trying the other doors, Querry found a path leading into a wood, an infinite sky, the stars beneath his feet, and a bubbling lagoon surrounded by brightly colored birds and flowers unlike any he’d ever seen. Finally he walked below the last arch and found himself in an alley, surrounded by the familiar smells of cheap booze, refuse and vomit. A few vagrants huddled together, drunk, snoring loudly, and dusted with snow. Bitter cold assaulted Querry’s bare skin. His feet lost sensation instantly. He clapped a hand over his shrinking genitals and tried to remember why he was here. Where was here? Feeling disoriented and exhausted, Querry stumbled into the street, hoping to find his way home before someone caught him defenseless or he froze to death. He ducked behind a building and whisked a cloth from an empty newsstand to drape over his shoulders. Querry managed a few more steps before he fell to his knees. The world went dark and blurry. With the last of his energy Querry curled up behind a wooden barrel and covered as much of his exposed skin with the fabric as he could. He saw the silhouette of a person approaching and reached for his absent blade. He balled his fists to defend himself as the stranger drew nearer, but his head dropped to the side of the barrel and he saw no more.
A VIOLENT coughing spell woke Querry. He lay in a puddle of sweat, his head pounding and flesh on fire. He hacked until he nearly threw up, then choked down a few breaths to banish his vertigo. Darkness and flames blurred at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t focus his eyes. He retched. Nothing came up.
He had another fever. They spread like wildfire through the workhouse in winter, due to the filthy conditions and lack of proper food. The many who succumbed would be wrapped in thin sheets and piled on a cart bound for pit-style mass graves. Querry hoped he wouldn’t be among them, but he’d gone cold now. His hands trembled, and he couldn’t feel his feet. Medicin
e, even a decent bowl of soup, were luxuries beyond the wildest dreams of the factory workers.
But someone had tucked a blanket around Querry and smoothed the damp fringe out of his face. Tepid water flowed into his mouth. He sputtered, but managed to get a teaspoonful past his swollen throat.
“You’re going to be all right,” said a gentle voice. Querry recognized it.
“Reg?” he croaked and tried to sit up. All of his muscles ached and shook, and he fell back against the ground before he could even lift his shoulders.
The cup came again to his lips. “Just rest,” Reg said, petting Querry’s forehead.
Thank the heavens for Reg, Querry thought. Without each other, neither of the young men would likely survive the horrors of the factory. Many times Querry had lifted a metal bar to prevent the older workers from sampling the delicate blond’s favors by force. Reg talked Querry out of reckless fights and took care of him when he got sick. As Querry lay vulnerable, Reg guarded him against those who came seeking a distraction or revenge. But mostly they gave one another hope. Reg gave Querry a reason to try to get well, to keep fighting.
“Water?” he asked, trying again to raise his head. Though Querry’s neck trembled, Reg supported him and propped him up on a doubled pillow.
Pillow? They’d never seen a pillow. They slept on scratchy mats filled with straw and bugs. The itchy lesions on their arms and legs provided proof. Everything still looked blurred, but it occurred to Querry that the ceiling above him was white, not gray block supported by riveted beams and coated in soot. He inhaled, detecting clean linen, coffee, and the must of books instead of the expected stink of the factory and its inhabitants. He tried to think, remember what he’d been doing, where, and with whom.
Again he sipped the liquid Reg provided. He realized he lay naked between impossibly smooth sheets and a thick, feather mattress.
“Frolic, won’t you open the window just a bit?” Reg said. “I think his fever’s finally broken, and some fresh air might be just the thing.” Querry saw him in his crisp, celery shirt and paisley cravat, sitting in an upholstered chair and looking down with concern on his pretty face. The thief felt a breath of cool, snow-scented air, and another figure appeared behind Reg and put his hand on Reg’s shoulder: a strangely beautiful, young man with silver hair and bright, yellow eyes.
“Querry’s all right now?” the stranger asked.
Reg patted the other’s knuckles. “I think so.”
Something rubbed the ball of Querry’s foot and began to purr. “What the hell is going on?” Querry croaked. “Reg?”
“Suppose you tell me,” Reg answered, setting the fancy porcelain cup of water on a night table beside some red and white roses. He draped his fingers across Querry’s forehead. “We found you in one of the worst parts of town.”
“We?”
“Frolic and me. After you didn’t come back for three days, we went out searching. We found you lying in an alley, almost covered with snow.”
“You weren’t wearing anything, Querry,” said the silver-haired young man, Frolic. Slowly, the memory of their meeting returned to Querry’s fever-scorched mind.
“The last thing I remember,” he said, “is us having dinner. Rabbit.”
“You said you knew where to get some answers,” Frolic reminded him. “Where did you go?”
Querry thought hard. “I was planning to go into Neroche,” he finally said in a surprised tone. “That’s it. I was going to ask my gentleman—”
Reg’s hand quickly left Querry’s face.
“But I don’t think I ever made it. I can’t remember a thing after leaving this house. Damn, I’ve lost my gear, haven’t I?”
“The fever lasted three weeks,” Reg said. “I’m not surprised you can’t remember. I can’t imagine where you could have left your gear or your clothing.”
“Three weeks?”
“We thought we’d lose you, Querry,” Frolic said, and squeezed Reg’s shoulder. “I’ve never been so afraid.”
Even in his barely recuperated state, Querry could see something had formed between the two of them.
“You were delirious when we found you,” Reg continued. “Burning up. Not unusual, I suppose, for spending three nights naked in the cold. Nothing I bought from the chemist did a lick of good, until, one day when I was coming home from work, a little sparrow landed on my shoulder. It held a little sprig in its claw, of flowers that looked made of blue glass.”
“Roses?” Querry asked. It seemed significant, though he couldn’t imagine why.
“Yes. The bird spoke to me. It told me to lay the flowers across your eyes, and to open up the curtains and let the light of the full moon fall on you. It said that after the blossoms absorbed all the madness, I should bury them in a church yard. It said I’d know when the flowers turned black.”
“A faerie cure,” Querry mused. Memories flitted and danced around the edges of his mind, just out of grasp.
“Yes. And Frolic and I had a great deal of debate as to whether we could trust it, I can tell you. He reasoned that it couldn’t make things any worse. I disagreed, of course, but in the end I think it saved you.”
“You said and did the strangest things,” Frolic said. “You wanted to dance. We had to hold you down on the bed.”
“I’m sorry I missed that,” he replied. Both Frolic and Reg smiled at him, and then, looking at one another, they smiled more, their eyes crinkling shut.
“Just what’s going on here?” Querry asked.
Reg cleared his throat. “The fever seems to have broken. You seem much more lucid now. How are you feeling?”
“Stiff. And hungry. Like the luckiest man in the world. Thank you. Both of you.”
“Of course, Querry,” said Frolic enthusiastically. “I love you.”
Reg said nothing, but expressed volumes in his sad little smile. “You’ll want a bath,” he said. “You’ve been sweating buckets. Frolic, won’t you take some cold chicken from the ice box and fry it up with some carrots and onions? It’ll make a nice, healthy soup for Querry here.”
“Of course!” Frolic spun on the ball of his foot and hurried out of the room.
“Quite the little cook,” Reg said, looking fondly after him.
“You two seem to be getting on rather well,” Querry said as he removed his blanket, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and tested his strength. He managed to stand, but had to grip the arm of Reg’s chair for balance.
“He’s completely devoted to you,” Reg answered, standing up himself to offer Querry his arm. “He wouldn’t let me rest until we found you, and then he never left your side. Poor fellow. I thought he’d fall apart when you were at your worst.”
They made their way slowly down the hall. Querry, weak with lack of food, swooned several times and had to stop. Finally they reached the bathroom. It contained a huge, cast-iron tub with clawed feet, a porcelain sink beneath a gilt-framed mirror, and one of those fancy new latrines. Thick, brass pipes lined the walls. Everything was clean and white, spotted with royal blue drapery and linens. After lowering Querry to a brocade bench, Reg stopped the drain and turned the brass spigot. The plumbing pinged as it heated. Hot water splashed into the tub, and Reg added some citrus-scented salts. “I’ve never seen such a sensitive and compassionate soul,” he said, still referring to Frolic. “Really, it’s impossible not to want to protect him. It’s impossible to dislike him, for he’s nothing but goodness.”
“I could have told you that,” Querry said, getting to his feet. He caught a glimpse of his reflection: he’d lost about fifteen pounds, and his skin looked loose and gray. Beneath almost a month of whiskers, his cheeks appeared sunken. Puffy purple ringed his blue eyes. Holding Reg’s shoulder, he stepped into the bath and lowered his body into the steaming, fragrant water. It felt just as heavenly as he’d always imagined it would, and he sighed with contentment and rested his head against the ledge. Reg removed his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. He dipped a cloth in the w
ater, wrung it out, and wiped Querry’s face.
“I comforted him, Querry,” Reg said guiltily. “We comforted each other.”
“How?”
“He wanted to be held. He was devastated and afraid. I couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to be alone at night. I let him sleep with me after we didn’t feel we needed to sit up with you. And—”
“And?”
“I enjoyed it too. I was worried. I mean, it was you. The one person I suppose I never thought could come to any harm. I never thought anything could touch you. It terrified me, this proof that you’re mortal.”
Querry laughed, and it led to a brief spell of coughing. Reg soaped up his cloth and continued to wash Querry’s neck and arms. The pressure felt good against Querry’s muscles. It felt good to get the grime off his skin. “I was glad to have somebody to hold. To hold me back. And one night, he was in my arms, crying, and he wanted to kiss….”
“And?”
“It was lovely. He was enthusiastic yet innocent. I can’t really describe it. There was nothing sordid. It felt so proper and good.” He’d stopped washing Querry, and held the rag in front of Querry’s heart.
“How far did this go, Reg?”
“We touched one another.” Reg sank down and sat on his heels by the tub. He let go of the cloth, and his hand moved up Querry’s wet neck and over his ear. Taking hold of Querry’s hair, Reg brought Querry’s face to his chest, where it darkened his pale green shirt. He wriggled his other arm beneath Querry’s chin and drew him very close. Querry let his eyes close and savored the wonderful moment. Reg’s nose burrowed into his locks, and Reg spoke into his hair. “Remember that first night in the workhouse, when our group had just been brought in? You offered to let me put my mat next to yours? Said we could look out for one another?”
“’Course I remember, Reg. I remember the first time I saw you.” Still dirty from the fields, eyes wide, hair askew, a combination of awkwardness and grace that made me want you right away.