by Kim Fielding
“You’re beautiful,” Orris said softly, even though he wasn’t sure whether his voice would alarm or incite the creature.
The wolf twitched its ears slightly and took a small step forward. Then it stopped again.
Orris did not want to die. But there was something so entirely compelling in the wolf’s eyes that, had he been asked, he would have willingly laid himself out before the beast as a sacrifice.
Instead he fell to his knees and reached out with his hands. “Please,” he croaked.
The wolf took another step closer. But then it froze. It was saying something to him, without words, and Orris was too stupid to understand. He didn’t understand anything anymore… except that he yearned for the wolf.
He would have crawled to the animal on his hands and knees, but it gave a soft growl. Without breaking eye contact, it swiveled its head in the direction of the hills. Then it turned and ran away.
8
“Are you all right, Orris? You seem off this morning.”
Orris realized he’d been standing motionless for some time, a shovel in his hand. He leaned the tool against the barn and shook his head. “I’m fine. A little tired, I expect.”
“The baby’s been keeping you up. I’m sorry.” Samuel wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “He’ll be sleeping through the night soon.”
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not Jesse. I’m feeling a bit restless.”
Samuel gave him a long look. “You could go into Portland for a few days. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about a small salary. Ain’t much, but—”
“I don’t want money. Or the city.” What he wanted—no, what he needed—was the forest. The wild. He realized it quite suddenly and with a certainty that made his heart race. “Samuel? Can you spare me for a few hours today? I’d like to take a walk.”
“A walk?”
“Yes.”
Samuel looked troubled, but he nodded. “Sure, Orr. You go ahead. Clear your head.”
Mumbling his gratitude, Orris headed in the direction of the forest.
“Where are you going, Orris?” Samuel called after him.
Orris pointed vaguely, but didn’t reply.
“Be careful!”
Finding the narrow trail through the woods wasn’t difficult. Staying on the path was harder. There was much more plant growth than last time, forcing him to clamber over and around many obstacles. At times the way was obscured entirely, leaving him briefly wondering if he was lost. Oddly, he wasn’t frightened by the notion.
By the time he reached the clearing with the cabin, he was slightly winded and quite thoroughly dirty. He paused at the very edge of the woods. A few green shoots showed in the little garden plot and a hoe leaned near the door.
After taking several deep breaths for courage, Orris marched forward. His fist was raised to knock when the door swung open, startling him.
Henry was entirely naked. Orris could do nothing but goggle at him. At his wide shoulders and muscular, lightly haired chest. At the flat belly and narrow hips. At the plump, flaccid penis and pink scrotum nestled among golden curls. But even as he watched, the penis twitched and lengthened until it was partially erect.
“Orris,” Henry rasped. His hair was in disarray—Orris hadn’t noticed that at first—and there was a pillow crease on his cheek. He stood still under Orris’s examination, except for his Adam’s apple, which bobbed as he swallowed.
Orris still held his fist in the air; he let it fall. Heat pooled low in his belly and spread up his spine, then flashed through his brain in a sudden fever. He was delirious, incapable of rational thought. He grabbed Henry’s bare shoulders and dragged him close for a rough and ravenous kiss.
The kiss was good. Henry’s body against his, arms around him, was better. But not enough. Orris put his newly increased strength to use as he wrestled them both out of the doorway, back onto the bare bit of ground in front of the cabin. Henry was bigger and could certainly have resisted, but he didn’t, and when Orris pushed him down, Henry let himself fall, pulling Orris down on top of him.
Orris nearly lost himself completely. He licked and nibbled at Henry’s skin and rutted against him like an animal. He realized he was making a sound deep in his throat, a needy moan, but didn’t care.
“Orris. Orris, wait.” Henry grabbed Orris’s shoulders and held him still. A flush covered Henry’s chest and face, and his hair was wild beneath him.
Orris blinked a few times and tried to regain some control. “You don’t want—”
“God, yes. I want. But this is… a dangerous time to do this.”
“I don’t care. It’s always been a dangerous time for me.”
Henry considered this a moment. “I guess so.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “I want to see you and taste you too. Please.”
Orris found it physically painful to pull away from Henry, as if he were tearing off a limb, but he complied. He rose to his feet and undressed, while Henry propped himself up on his elbows to watch, his legs splayed invitingly. Orris’s impatience caused him to fumble with buttons and laces, and soon he was as naked as Henry. Under other circumstances, he might have felt chilled—the morning was not warm—but a raging fire still flamed through his veins, heating him from the inside out.
Henry must have liked what he saw, because he smiled broadly, and the rosy head of his cock bobbed against his belly.
Orris fell on top of him, hard enough to make Henry oof. But Henry wrapped his arms tightly around him and nuzzled at his neck. “Delicious. So good, Orris.”
“Mmm,” Orris replied, reveling in the sensation of skin against skin.
“This is… this is new to me. Better than I dreamed of.”
Orris reared up slightly so he could see Henry’s face. “You’ve never been with a man?”
“I’ve never been with anyone.”
“You’re a virgin?” That possibility had never crossed Orris’s mind.
“I ain’t from New York City. Not too many opportunities in these parts.”
Glancing briefly at the trees that ringed them, Orris nodded. “I understand. Are you quite sure you—”
“Ain’t never been more sure of anything,” Henry answered with a grin. “Just wanted to warn you. I probably ain’t gonna be very good at it.”
An unexpected laugh bubbled up from Orris’s throat. “I promise I won’t grade your performance if you don’t grade mine. I’m not so very practiced myself.”
“You had a lover.”
“I did. But we were together only a few times, really. We rarely had much opportunity.”
“And before him?”
“A few… clumsy fumbles with other boys. Nothing like this.” He stroked Henry’s smooth cheek, then his chest. “Never anything like this.”
Henry rumbled an approval and squeezed Orris’s buttocks. “I ain’t met that many people, Orris. But you’re the first one I ever ached for. Ever since I first saw you.”
If Henry was going to be so honest and direct, Orris could hardly be closemouthed about his own feelings—even if he didn’t understand them, even if they didn’t make sense. “It’s the same for me. Daniel was… he was nice. I liked him. But there’s something about you that draws me like no other man has. Something… I don’t even have the words for it.”
Although Henry smiled, his eyes were serious. “I’m different, Orris. You need to know that. I ain’t…. There’s nothing like me in New York City.”
“I know.”
And truly those were enough words for now. Orris wanted to use his mouth for other things. And so he did—tasting Henry and being tasted. He shuddered helplessly as Henry explored his body, mapping a new frontier; and he reveled in making Henry whimper and shout. The noises they made together echoed across the clearing, and that was wonderful in itself. Before, Orris had always needed to remain quiet.
But when Orris entered Henry’s body—his way eased slightly by spit and by the eager droplets their desperate cocks had produced—th
ey both froze to stare at one another, wide-eyed.
“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” Henry whispered. “Didn’t think I’d ever find you.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“How much will you give up for me?”
Orris didn’t even need to think about the answer. “Anything. Everything.”
He had to move then, and he did, and Henry arched and writhed underneath him. When they pulsed their completions in unison, they yelled loudly enough to startle birds into flight.
After, they lay entwined on the ground, sweat sticking dirt to their skin. Henry snuffled deeply into Orris’s hair. “Thank you.”
“Believe me, it was my pleasure.” Orris wiggled slightly against him. Given a few minutes to recover, he was reasonably certain he’d be up for a second round. Outdoor nudity was unexpectedly stimulating.
“Didn’t think I’d be able to… to keep control. I couldn’t have if I’d been inside you.”
Orris shivered slightly at the thought of Henry inside him. He would like that very much. “There’s no need for you to maintain control. I’m not delicate. You won’t hurt me.”
There was no humor in Henry’s answering laugh. “I would. And not because you’re fragile, Orris—you ain’t. It’s only…. God, I want to change you. To make you like me. And that ain’t fair to you.”
Orris sat up. He rubbed his fingers through his hair, dislodging a few pine needles that tickled when they fell down his back. “There’s nothing wrong with being like you. You’re the most remarkable person I’ve ever met.”
“If you were like me, you couldn’t ever go back to New York.”
“I can’t anyway. And frankly, I don’t want to. There’s nothing for me there.”
“But there’s something for you here.” Henry sat too, and he settled his hand on Orris’s shoulder. “You got family here. I know your brother a little bit. He’s a good man. Are you willing to lose him for me?”
“I….” Orris looked down at his lap. His spent cock was damp. A storm of emotions churned inside him. “I can’t have both?” he finally asked, looking up again. But he knew the answer.
Henry shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry.” He stood and then held out a hand to Orris, who used it to leverage himself up.
Now Orris was cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, wishing for Henry’s embrace instead. “It’s a terrible decision.”
“Then think about it a while longer. Be sure. Because if you choose me, you can’t go back.”
“Thank you for being patient with me.”
Henry’s smile was a little bit crooked, which made it all the more endearing. “I don’t want to be patient. I want to grab you right now.”
“And I want to be grabbed.” Orris smiled at him before retrieving his clothing. Henry watched silently while Orris dressed. They walked together to the edge of the clearing, Henry uncaring of the uneven ground despite his bare feet.
Just under the canopy of the firs, Henry cradled Orris’s face in his palms. “I’m glad you came here today. But for the good of us both, don’t return unless you decide to stay. And for God’s sake, stay indoors the next few nights. Please.”
Carefully not making any promises—nor thinking too carefully about the last part of Henry’s request—Orris caressed him back. “I’m glad I came here too. Whatever happens, I may have regrets. But I won’t regret the time we spent together today.”
They kissed again, a soft contact that was more about affection than passion. And then Orris headed back downhill, toward the farm.
9
When Orris returned from his visit to Henry’s cabin, Samuel was repairing a fence post alongside the sheep paddock. Samuel gave him a very long look—perhaps taking in his disheveled clothing and messy hair—but only grunted at him before returning to his task. Orris walked past silently.
After dinner the family gathered in the parlor. The baby was uncharacteristically content, sucking on his fingers and watching everyone with his wide brown eyes. Lucy rocked him slowly in her arms and discussed plans with Samuel. They were trying to decide whether to buy a few dairy cows the following year. None of their closest neighbors kept cattle, and Samuel and Lucy might be able to sell them milk. The girls sat on the rug and played cat’s cradle with some lengths of gray yarn.
Orris reclined on the sofa—it was much better for sitting than sleeping—and watched them all.
“What do you think, Orr?” asked Samuel, turning in his direction. “If we’re going to get cows, we’ll have to clear the trees from the south end of the property to make a pasture. Chopping them down is hard enough, but pulling the stumps—that’s really work. But we could sell the lumber for a decent price. Maybe even get enough to pay for the cows. Would you mind playing lumberjack for a while?”
“I’ll help however you need me,” Orris said. But he was picturing all the hills denuded of forest, reduced first to farmland and then to crowded, stinking cities. He pictured all the creatures of the forest—the birds, the deer, the coyotes, the wolves—confined to smaller islands of wilderness until those were gone too. But he also imagined Samuel, Lucy, and their children comfortable and content. Not ostentatiously wealthy, but prosperous. Never having to worry about whether there would be food on the table or a good roof over their heads.
Not too long after that, Orris begged exhaustion and went to his room.
Usually he cleaned himself before he went to bed, using the basin, towel, and soap on the bedroom’s small washstand. But not tonight. Instead he fell asleep with Henry’s scent still thick on his skin. He slept fitfully, waking several times with the conviction that someone waited for him just outside. And once he thought he heard a wolf’s lonely howl.
Morning dawned gray and damp. Orris made sure the animals had fresh water. He fed Beau, but the horse whinnied and shied away from him, so Orris made quick work of it and then moved on. He spent a fairly miserable few hours bent over, pulling weeds. But he didn’t complain. After all, the work needed to be done.
Lunch was large and filling. The girls sat on either side of Orris as he ate, and he helped them with their sums. He’d always been good with numbers—the only thing about him that his father had ever praised.
Orris donned his outerwear in the anteroom and prepared to tackle more weeds. But Samuel stopped him just as he was going out the door. “Want to ride into town with me? I need a few things at the store.”
“But the weeding—”
“There’s always chores. But sometimes even a farmer needs a little break. Come with me. The weeds will wait for you.”
They didn’t speak for the first mile or two of the rattling ride. But when they turned onto the larger road that led directly to town, Samuel cleared his throat. “You sure you don’t want to go into Portland for a few days, Orr? You could pick up some wallpaper samples for Lucy while you’re there.”
“No. Thank you. But if you want to go, I can help keep things going on the farm.”
“Nah. It’ll wait. I just thought….” He settled his hat farther forward on his head. “Never mind.”
“Thanks, Samuel. For everything, I mean. I’d have been lost without you.”
After a brief silence, Samuel said, “If you’re not careful, Orr, you could get lost again. We ain’t all that civilized here yet. Sometimes men walk into the forest and they never come back.”
Orris nodded but didn’t meet Samuel’s eyes. He turned his head to the side, as if the field they were passing fascinated him. “I want you to know, Samuel. I won’t… I won’t disgrace you. Or let any other harm come to your family.”
“I know.”
Orris listened to the creaking of Beau’s harness and the slightly squashy clops of his hooves on the muddy road, and he thought back to a time shortly before he and Daniel were discovered in bed together. They’d attended an art show displaying works by some radical new painters, most of them French. Impressionists, they were called. Daniel hadn’t cared for the exh
ibit at all, but Orris had been quite intrigued. The landscape he passed through now resembled something from one of those Impressionist paintings, all watery swatches of color without sharp detail. He would never see artwork like that again—he knew that—but was it such a great loss when he had the real landscapes before him?
“Do you remember Mary Delaney, Orris?”
Disturbed from his brief reverie, Orris turned to his brother and blinked. “Who?”
“Mary Delaney. She was one of our servants. You used to call her May-May.”
“I don’t…. Perhaps.” Orris had a vague impression of a kind girl who smelled of soap and who comforted him when he suffered small injuries. His mother had died giving birth to him, and he supposed that when he was very young, he’d welcomed whatever affection he could get.
“She was very pretty. The first girl I lost my heart to.” Samuel smiled. “I was eleven or twelve and she… oh, she must have been almost twenty. Ancient.”
“She used to sing to me at bedtime, I think. Once in a while.”
“Probably. She liked you. She used to say that you were special because you were the seventh son of a seventh son.”
Orris snorted. “Special? Right.”
“No, she was sure of it. She told everyone it meant you’d be magic. A healer, maybe.”
“You’re the one who was going to be a doctor. I get woozy at the sight of blood.”
“Well, Mary was insistent about it. She even used to argue about you with Cook, who claimed that seventh sons of seventh sons were actually werewolves.”
Orris ignored the way his skin stood up in goose bumps. “Cook never did like me.”
“Cook never liked anyone. I’m surprised she didn’t poison us all.”
They chuckled softly together. After a few moments, Orris asked, “What happened to May-May?” Again a shadowy memory of searching for her but not finding her, and nobody to hug him when he cried.
“Father sent her away when she got pregnant. She was unmarried.”
“Who was the father?”