Masterpost: "Bonds of Brotherhood: Tales of Love in the Realms"
So I've been writing a lot of spicy, romantic m/m stories set in Faerun, the Forgotten Realms setting for Dungeons and Dragons (thanks Baldur's Gate 3!) and I really am enjoying it, so I've decided I'm going to make a sort of "anthology" of sorts, entitled above.
Here are links to what I've written so far; questions, comments, critiques, and concerns are always welcome!
"Trash and Treasure": A tale of learning to love yourself
"Forging": A tale of yearning
"Unlawful Sorcery (and the Trouble with Oat Cakes)": a lighthearted story about an unexpected pairing
"Unlawful Sorcery (and the Trouble with Oat Cakes)": another romantically smutty little story by me
Here's yet another story that I wrote recently for my imaginary "anthology" that I'm calling "Bonds Of Brotherhood: Tales of Love From the Realms", a set of romantically smutty stories set in Faerun.
I intentionally tried to go a little more humorous with this one because I felt that the previous ones were getting a little serious.
Hope you enjoy. I'm currently brainstorming ideas for new stories. We'll see what I can pull out of my proverbial arse!
Caelian Moonweaver was a dangerous man. Caelian Moonweaver was a soul stealer. Caelian Moonweaver would corrupt the entire village. Caelian Moonweaver was looking to enslave every hard-working man, woman, and child in the land. Caelian Moonweaver wanted coin, power, and infernal knowledge.
At least, that's what the village elders had decided when, while passing through on my way to Waterdeep, they realized who I was, who my father and grandfather were. The name Moonweaver still sent shivers down spines in these parts, thanks to my grandfather's infamous pact with a devil lord that had turned an entire noble family into his personal puppets. That same pact had twisted our bloodline, giving me powers I never asked for. The village was only four days' journey from Waterdeep, but remote enough that such stories still lingered, a legacy that I hated to bear. I mean, really…if I had that sort of power, would I be wasting it on the rubes in this tiny little town? I had actual business in Waterdee, a promising position with the Watchful Order of Magists that would finally let me build a reputation of my own.
One minute, I was eating a delicious oat cake, the next I was in chains. For two days, I'd been sitting in the Millbrook jail, locked in one of two dusty, dingy, long unused cells that occupied the small building by the town hall. Through the narrow window, I could see the bustle of village life continuing without me, merchants' carts raising dust on the unpaved streets, children chasing chickens, the occasional guard patrol eyeing my window suspiciously. The early summer heat made the cell feel like an oven, and the smell of fresh-baked bread from the nearby bakery was pure torture.
Only one guard posted outside my cell, a half-orc with skin a deep jade, and stubby tusks that made his strong profile look even more imposing and ruggedly handsome. He wore his hair pulled back with the sides shaved, black as his thick mustache and goatee were. Big, tall, and broad shouldered, his shirt opened underneath his studded vest he was using as armor, and I could see the smattering of chest pelt underneath.
I usually had an easy time charming my way out of situations like this, especially when I had a good looking tough guy in front of me. Those types of men tended to like human guys who had softened features, which I attributed to elven blood far back in my line. I would just twirl my long copper hair around my well-manicured fingers, blink my sweet eyes, green as the fresh summer grass, and flash my gleaming smile and the walls in front of me would fall. Of course, it helped that I would cast a charm spell on these men, pursing my lips with innate magic. That didn't seem to work here and I didn't know why, so I just sat around, waiting for my seemingly inevitable execution without trial. I had to find a way out of this fast.
I had tried to chat up the guard a few times over the past two days, and met with nothing but grunts and head shakes. Typical tusker, all brawn and no people skills whatsoever. The isolation was getting to me, watching life continue outside while I sat here in silence, my attempts at conversation falling flat against his stoic demeanor. I was going stir crazy. Finally, when the guard brought my one and only meal, mid-day rations of gruel, bread and a tankard of soured ale that was more akin to horse-piss than a proper brew, something in me snapped.
"Hey, swamp-skin!" That got the guard's attention, as I saw his big body turn, eye cocked in my direction. I got more bold. "I'm going crazy in here. Don't you have any books? Parchment and a quill? Hell, a ball to throw against the wall or something?"
For the first time since I'd been in this cell, the guard spoke. "Am I supposed to feel bad that you feel bored?" The guard had a deep rumble in his voice that made my insides tremble, and not entirely in a bad way. The half-orc lumbered closer to me, a good foot taller than me, and I was not a halfling by any means. "You are in jail, demon. You're not supposed to be entertained."
"Speaking of jail, I still don't know why I'm here. I demand to speak to the village council. This is an outrage!" I stomped to the back wall of my cell, pouting. "I am not my forebears. I travel to lend my aid and magic to people who need it. I don't rob, I don't cheat, I don't steal." I slunk down to the hard, cold stone floor, and stared blankly ahead, despair setting in. "And I most certainly do not steal souls." My gaze rose to meet his deep set eyes, black as his coal colored locks. "If I did, I would have stolen yours. Though I don't know if I'd get more than a few copper for it. You look like you kick kittens."
My captor chuckled. "Fat chance of anything like that happening in here. The Elder Mage of this village put an ironclad ward on this building." A slick smile crept across his face. "Just for people like you." Well, at least I know why my magic didn't work here.
"And tell me about 'people like me' or whatever," I smiled sweetly. "Cute boys with full kissable lips and a butt that won't quit?" I turned around and shook my pert, jiggly ass while looking back with a mischievous grin.
The guard just cocked an eyebrow. He stared at me briefly…was that the forming of a grin on his face? "No. Cute boys who should be burning in Avernus instead of menacing small towns like ours." He turned and walked back to his post.
"Well," I muttered to myself, hanging my arms through the bars of the cell. "At least he thinks I'm cute."
-
A few days later, I was still restless. The night air drifted in through the narrow window, finally offering some mercy from the day’s stifling heat. I lay on my back atop the straw pallet, arms folded behind my head, staring at the ceiling stones that never changed.
Outside the bars, the guard was pacing again. Not in his usual tight patrol loops, but slower… like he was restless. Or maybe…dare I dream?…bored.
“You keep this up,” I called softly, “and I might start thinking you like the sound of your own boots.”
The pacing stopped.
“For someone in a cage,” came the gruff voice, “you talk too much.”
“Oh, sweetheart. That’s what everyone says. I take it as a sign of my sparkling personality.”
Silence.
I turned my head toward the bars. I couldn’t see much, just the flicker of torchlight behind his silhouette. Big. Broad. Still a brick wall of a man, even at rest.
“You’ve been standing out there longer than usual,” I said, softer now. “Trouble sleeping? Or do you just enjoy watching me toss and turn?”
“You could say thank you,” he replied.
“For what? Your sparkling conversation? The gruel? The iron bars?”
“For not leaving you to rot out in the stocks like the council wanted.”
That shut me up.
After a moment, I said, “…So that was you.”
No answer.
A quiet stretched out between us. Not hostile, just… heavy. Like neither of us quite knew what to do with it.
I sat up slowly, rubbing a hand through my hair. “Why didn’t you?”
He shifted, but didn’t answer. The firelight caught one edge of his face now; I saw his sharp jaw, that thick dark mustache, the faintest crease between his brows.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Maybe I’ve got a weakness for pain-in-the-ass pretty boys.”
I blinked. Then grinned. “Flattery? From you? Careful…I might swoon.”
“I said maybe. Don’t let it go to your head.”
I chuckled quietly, then rested my arms against the bars. “You’ve got a nice voice, you know. Like distant thunder. Or maybe earth being plowed.”
“That’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
“I wasn’t picking you up. Yet.” Hm, maybe I should try a misdirect. “I mean, could I even? You’re twice, maybe three times my size!”
No chuckle. Another silence.
A beat. Then, softer, I asked, “Do you ever get lonely out here? Watching over people who hate you for your blood?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to. The way he lingered there, just a few paces closer than he’d ever stood before, was answer enough.
Eventually, I slid back down onto the bedding and closed my eyes.
He stayed there until I drifted off.
The morning sun had barely crested over the hills when I heard the bolt on the cell door slide open. I sat up, groggy, expecting the usual delivery of tasteless porridge and stale bread.
Instead, the guard stepped inside holding… not a tray, but a small stack of worn books.
He didn’t say anything. Just walked over to the edge of the bars, knelt slightly, and slid them through the gap.
I stared at them. Then at him. Then back at the books.
“Wait… are you bribing me?” I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Gods, is this finally a seduction attempt? I mean, I'm flattered, truly, but you could have just led with a kiss.”
He exhaled through his nose. It could have been a huff of annoyance, but I swear it carried the edge of a smirk.
“You said you were going stir crazy,” he grunted. “Figured you’d rather be reading than trying to flirt your way through the bars.”
I picked up the top book, A Survey of Southern Realms: Volume III. The next one was some
tattered poetry collection with a pressed flower stuck between the pages. The third had no title but smelled like old candlewax and faintly of lavender.
“Well, well…” I flipped one open with a flourish. “A guard with taste. Do you moonlight as a librarian?”
“Don’t make me take them back.”
I pressed a hand to my heart. “You wound me. I would never insult a generous act. Especially from a tall, brooding slab of mystery like you.”
He ignored that, but he didn’t leave, either. Just lingered a moment while I flipped a page or two, watching me with those unreadable eyes of his.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said without looking up.
“You either,” he said.
And then he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him with only the faintest click. I held the poetry book in my lap and smiled to myself.
Not seduction. Not quite. But maybe… curiosity.
The next evening, he brought me my supper. Maybe it was a reward for leaving him in peace…my nose buried in those dusty old tomes he’d dropped off like he wasn’t thinking about me at all. Sure. Let’s go with that.
The meal was a little more substantial than what I’d been fed previously. A small portion of roast boar, tender vegetables, a hunk of bread to sop up the gravy, and a cup of cool, clear water. It smelled divine and tasted even better. Peeking through the bars, I saw he was eating the same thing.
“Well, look at that,” I said, flashing a grin. “A proper dinner date with my jade prince.”
“There was extra.” He didn’t look directly at me, just cast a glance from the corner of his eye. “I was feeling generous.”
I was ravenous. The meat practically melted on my tongue, and despite my best effort not to look like a starving gnoll, I tore into it with what I could only assume was a truly unflattering level of enthusiasm.
“Easy now, pretty,” he chuckled. “You’ll choke.”
I swallowed and pointed my spoon at him. “Finally! A real smile. I didn’t expect it to suit that rugged jaw of yours quite so well.”
Was that a flush? Just a flicker of red, barely there, crossing those green cheeks?
“Stop,” he muttered, looking away. Conversation dropped.
I waited a beat.
Then, casually, “You’ve not told me your name. I believe you at least owe me that. I want to know who’s keeping the village safe from me blowing it sky high.”
He hesitated. I saw the internal tug-of-war on his face before it slipped away into something more neutral.
“Morden,” he said. “Morden Stonefist.”
I perked up. “Stonefist! Your family…big orc clan out east, right? Rulers, if I’m not mistaken…”
His gaze dropped. “Wouldn’t know. My father wasn’t a king or a chieftain. Just a footsoldier with a distant connection of name. And when the clan found out he’d impregnated a human woman--a prostitute, no less--they wanted nothing to do with us. Out of sight, out of mind.”
He drank from his tankard, his voice tightening. “And my mother? Decided I was too wild to raise. Left me at the brothel she worked in and disappeared. I lost a mother and gained a house full of aunts. At least they were kind. They pushed me toward the guard. Said it’d give me a future. The training did help. I left, found road work, took this job. Decent pay, room and board, and I don’t need much sleep. Three years later, I’m still here. The town council trusts me.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why are you so interested in me?” Gods, he really didn’t see it, did he?
I leaned back on my elbows, grinning. “Why are you telling me all these juicy details of your life, Morden? You know I haven’t cast any spells on you, there being wards and all.”
He let out a low laugh. “I guess no one’s ever cared enough to ask. Let alone a prisoner.” A pause. “Anyway, you’ve hardly told me anything about yourself.”
I pressed a hand to my chest in mock scandal. “Don’t you already know? I’m the demon-sworn sorcerer, cursed by blood, lusting after power and riches and oh, the delicious destruction!” I struck a dramatic pose, then gave him a wink.
That earned another smile. I could really get used to seeing him smile. “Okay, okay…” Morden shook his head. “Say you weren’t the evil, power-hungry sorcerer everyone says you are.” His voice lowered. “Tell me about you.”
Damn, he was really sexy when he dropped the gruff act.
“I… I don’t know.” I sat up straighter, quieter. “Everyone ties me to my grandfather and father. Truth is, I barely knew them. My grandfather died when I was small. I have only one real memory of him. I remember I was maybe four or five, being told to sit still and be silent in his presence. He looked like a demon, all sharp bones and colder eyes. I remember him handing me a gold coin with this… this awful smile. It haunted my dreams until I realized I meant nothing to him. I was just the next heir to his damned legacy.”
Morden was quiet. Listening. Fully.
“What about your parents?” he asked gently.
“My father? Barely there. My mother sent me away to boarding school, probably the smartest thing she ever did. She visited, but Father never did. Except on high holidays, that is. He’d check my grades and then go off about his magical experiments, his power plays, how he was helping lords gain control, ruin rivals, enslave entire villages. Every year he looked worse. Like the rot inside him was seeping out through his skin. I knew I never wanted to become that.”
I looked down at the last bit of bread, my appetite flickering.
“And then… the demon came. My father’s patron. Turns out he’d bargained for more power with my mother’s soul. When he tried to fight it? Well, he lost his too.” My voice caught for a moment, but I pushed it down. A single tear slipped free anyway. “I guess I should feel lucky he didn’t throw mine on the pile. All for power. And then some how, it came to me through the blood anyway. This power. Power I never asked for.”
I looked up, met Morden’s eyes. His gaze was steady. Soft.
“They were warlocks, Morden. Begging for gifts they didn’t earn. Me?” I took a drink of water. “I was born into it. The weave wove through me before I could even speak. That’s the difference between a warlock and a sorcerer.” I raised my cup like a toast. “They sold their souls for their power. I inherited mine.”
Then I smirked. “And thank goodness! I’ve got skin like fresh parchment. The fires of Avernus would give me the worst sunburn.”
Morden barked a laugh.
And just for a moment, in the flicker of the torchlight, it felt like I wasn’t a prisoner…Just a man, sharing a meal with another.
I hadn’t realized how quiet it had gotten until I looked up from one of the books Morden had brought me and noticed he was gone.
He’d left me provisions: some hard cheese and dried meat, two apples, and a carafe of water. And what was that? An oat cake! I was elated, one of the only luxuries I had been afforded here. The rations were enough to last the day, I suppose, if I didn’t wolf down the oat cake, but it wasn’t like him to disappear for so long.
The sun was already dipping behind the hills when I finally heard the door creak open. I looked up with a smile. “I thought you’d run off with a traveling band of minstrels.”
Morden raised an eyebrow, stepping into the torchlight. “I’m not allowed to run errands now?”
“I suppose you are,” I said, lowering the book. “Though I was beginning to think you’d left me to rot on bread and poetry.”
“I had to pick up the laundry from the marm,” he said, setting down a cloth bundle. “And more provisions. For both of us, mind you. Then I had a meeting with the council.”
The moment he said it, something inside me tensed.
I rose and crossed to the bars, curling my fingers around the cold iron. “Did they say anything about me? When I’ll be let go?”
Morden’s eyes dropped. “They’re still assessing the threat you pose.” There was a shift in his voice, something drier, darker.
He looked back up at me. “By the sounds of it, you’ve committed a heinous, vile act.”
I blinked. “I did no such thing.” My mouth had gone dry. “I walked through town. I bought an oat cake. I was heading to the inn when the guard stopped me. That’s it. That’s all I did.”
Morden’s expression softened. His gaze held mine, those deep black eyes, full of something I couldn’t quite name. Sadness, maybe. Or recognition.
His hand lifted, slowly, and touched mine through the bars. Warm fingers on mine. Solid. Real. We were close now. Too close. I could feel his breath. The scent of leather and fresh hay clung to him, with the faintest trace of musk and soap. It made my head swim.
“Are you casting a charm spell on me?” he asked softly.
I swallowed. “No,” I murmured. “But I could ask the same of you.”
I leaned in before I could stop myself, closing the gap between us.
His tusks grazed my cheek. Then his lips found mine, warm, steady, unhurried. Our mouths moved together, and the world disappeared.
He tasted faintly of ale and something sweeter, like fruit left too long in the sun. His tongue brushed mine, coaxing, exploring. I felt it all…his strength, his tension, his hesitation…and beneath it, a gentleness that made my chest ache. Then, slowly, he pulled back.
We stood there, breathless, eyes locked.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, voice low, unsure.
“But you did,” I whispered. “And you believe me.”
He nodded once. “I do.”
I reached for him again. “Then believe me when I say this: I would love nothing more than to spend the night in your arms.”
Morden’s jaw tensed. I saw the conflict in his eyes, plain as day. Then he stepped back, just enough for the chill to return between us.
“Not now,” he said. “Not tonight.”
I nodded, looking down. “I understand.”
He backed up and turned to walk to his room. He paused, then looked back over his shoulder. “Believe me, pretty,” the rumble in his voice betrayed a sultry growl. “When it comes time, I’m going to devour you like an oat cake.”
I felt my face burn to a hot red. I had plenty to think about.
--
Two uneventful days passed. I read, getting lost in the poems on the pages. I stared out the window of my cell, small as it was, watching the ebb and flow of daily life in the village. I recited incantations and warding spells in my head, in case I ever did make it to the school I was expected at. I did that all day. Until finally, it was late. It was dark. It was quiet, the kind of quiet only found in deep stone and chill in the night air.
I was closing my eyes for another sleepless night. They opened and I looked up when I heard the door open, already knowing who it was.
Morden stood there in the dim glow, shirt loose at the collar, hair slightly damp. No armor. No sword. Just him. His eyes searched mine, his expression unreadable, but his presence hummed with decision.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said.
“Because of me, or the acoustics?”
He didn’t smile, but his voice softened. “You.”
The key turned in the lock. The sound sent a shiver down my spine.
“You’re letting me out?” I asked.
“Just for a while,” he said. “If you want.”
I stepped out and into his orbit, close enough to feel the heat of him. He led me quietly into his small sleeping chamber. The room was bare, but it smelled like him, leather, hay, something musky and warm.
I turned. “Still not too late to change your mind.”
He met my gaze and said, “I don’t want to.”
That was all I needed.
We kissed fast, urgent, and I backed him toward the bed, fingers already tugging at his belt.
He stopped me for a moment, forehead resting against mine. “You don’t have to…”
“I want to,” I cut in, voice low. “Let me.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, breathing uneven. I dropped to my knees between his legs.
I looked up at him as I undid the laces of his trousers, slow and deliberate. “You’ve been brooding at me from in front of that cell door for days. I think it’s time you relaxed.”
His mouth twitched like he wanted to say something, maybe a protest, maybe a joke, but then I freed him, and the only sound he made was a soft, helpless exhale. He was thick and already throbbing and hard, his cock heavy in my hand. His phallus was huge, like a jade obelisk crowned with plum purple. It was much bigger than I expected, but then again so was he. I wrapped my fingers around the thick base, leaned in, and dragged my tongue up the underside with slow reverence. His hips jerked slightly.
“Gods, Caelian…”
I smiled. “Say that again later.”
I stretched my mouth over the flared knob and slowly took him into my mouth, inch by inch, savoring the weight and heat of him. He filled my mouth gradually, and when I glanced up, his head was tipped back, eyes closed, one hand clenched in the blanket beside him. I bobbed my head in a slow rhythm, sucking gently, swirling my tongue around the head. When I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, he groaned a deep, guttural sound that went straight to my spine.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice strained. His hand moved to my hair, fingers threading through, not pushing, just holding on, gently guiding me.
I moaned around him, letting the vibration tease him further, and felt his thighs tense on either side of me.
“You’re gonna make me…” he started.
I pulled back with a slick pop and grinned up at him. “Not yet. I have plans.”
He barely had time to catch his breath before I stood, stripped my tunic off, and pressed him back onto the bed. He rolled with me, pulling me beneath him, kissing me hard, hungry now, unrestrained.
Clothes were gone before I knew it. His skin against mine, hot and rough and perfect. I kissed him everywhere I could reach, teeth scraping over his throat, his shoulder, his chest. His weight over me was everything I didn’t know I needed, anchoring, overwhelming in the best way. He reached for the oil tucked beneath his bed. Practical man. I smiled as he coated his fingers and reached between my legs, I gasped as his big, rough fingers found my tight opening, prepping me with slow, careful pressure.
“Still thorough, I see.”
“Quiet,” he growled, voice rough.
I arched into him. “Make me.”
He made me by shoving his tongue in my mouth as his fingers left me and I felt the great morningstar between his legs start pushing into me. I whimpered into his mouth and he returned with a grunt and deep, rolling growl.
When he entered me, it was slow and deep. I gasped, hands gripping his back, nails digging in as he filled me completely.
“Caelian…” he whispered, like it meant something sacred.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Gods, yes, you feel…so…” I couldn’t finish the thought. Didn’t need to.
He rocked into me in steady, powerful strokes, his body pressed flush against mine, forehead to forehead. Every movement was pleasure and pressure and too much and not enough.
“I’m yours tonight,” I whispered. “I’m yours as long as you want me…”
He didn’t answer. He just kissed me like he believed it.
We moved together in the dark, bodies tangled, moans swallowed into mouths. His thrusts grew faster, rougher, chasing the edge.
I came first, spilling between us with a cry muffled into his shoulder. He followed not long after, his huge member pumping, pulsing deep inside me. He flooded me with a broken groan, clutching me like I might vanish.
Afterward, we lay in the mess of it, limbs tangled, his hand on my chest, his breath slow and warm against my neck.
“Still think I’m dangerous?” I asked quietly, half-laughing.
He chuckled softly. “Only to my sanity.”
I smiled and closed my eyes.
When it finally broke, when we came apart in each other’s arms, I was breathless, sweat-slicked, and completely undone. He curled beside me after, one arm across my stomach, breath warm on my neck.
“Next time,” I said, voice thick with sleep, “I want dinner first.”
He chuckled against my shoulder.
“I’ll see if the bakery’s got more of those oat cakes.”
I smiled.
“Perfect. You bring the cakes, I’ll bring the charm.”
We were both dressed. Mostly.
Morden had managed to tame his hair into something resembling order, and I had traded my prison-creased tunic for a fresh one he’d tucked away in a chest. It was still a bit snug across the shoulders, but I wasn’t complaining. If anything, I rather liked the way it hugged my waist.
He was adjusting his belt, very focused on it, while I rifled through the pile of books near the bed.
“I left one of the poetry volumes in the cell,” I said absently.
Morden looked up. “You sure?”
“Positive. I remember because I bookmarked a line about yearning with a piece of dried apple.” He gave me a long-suffering look but said nothing as I crossed into the hallway and walked toward the cell.
The heavy door creaked as I pushed it open, except it didn’t creak much, because it was already slightly ajar.
I paused. I hadn’t left it that way.
I stepped inside, scanning the small space. My blanket was still folded. The carafe was where I left it. And there, on the cot, sat the book. Exactly as I remembered. I picked it up, brushing a bit of imaginary dust from the cover. Then came the sound of fast-approaching boots.
Morden appeared behind me in the doorway just as the outer door to the holding area slammed open and a young man in a courier’s vest came barreling in, cheeks flushed, breath ragged.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
There we stood. Me in Morden’s tunic, holding a book. Morden behind me in the narrow cell, arms crossed.
The messenger blinked once. Twice. Then said, “…Why is the cell door open?”
I offered my brightest, most innocent smile. “Oh! We were, ah…doing inventory.”
Morden pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I was told to bring the prisoner, sorry, the guest, to the council chamber. Immediately.” He looked at Morden. “You too. They’re waiting.”
“Who is ‘they’?” I asked, smoothing down the hem of my borrowed shirt.
The messenger shrugged. “Didn’t ask.”
He gave the cell door one more suspicious glance before turning on his heel and jogging back the way he came.
I looked at Morden. He looked at me.
Then he muttered, “Well. That could have been worse.”
I smirked. “He didn’t even notice the hair.”
Morden grunted and walked off muttering something about wanting to crawl into the nearest well.
I followed, book tucked under my arm, utterly unrepentant.
We were ushered across the town square, and I couldn’t help but notice…no chains this time. No magical manacles, no dramatic declarations of doom. Just a brisk walk and a very tight-lipped escort. Something was definitely afoot. When we entered the council chamber, I saw what.
Three figures stood near the front, all draped in robes bearing the unmistakable silver sigil of the Watchful Order. Definitely not locals. They looked clean. Organized. Somewhat scandalized to be here. One of them, a tall, tightly wound man with a neatly trimmed beard, was pacing in tight little circles, the kind that said “I left important spellwork for this.” The other two, a younger scribe and a woman with steel-gray hair and sharp glasses, were holding a slate and parchment between them.
The woman was clearly in charge. “All right,” she said crisply, voice slicing the room in half. “Let me make sure I have this correct. The reason Mr. Moonweaver was detained… is because he was eating an oat cake?”
The head councilman cleared his throat. “Well…he was observed drawing symbols in the dirt.”
“While eating the oat cake,” another elder offered helpfully.
She paused. “I see. Go on.”
“And then…” the councilman hesitated. “A goose started acting strangely.”
The quill in her hand froze. “I’m sorry?”
“A local goose,” another elder clarified. “Agatha. She reportedly honked three times, flapped in a counterclockwise motion, and then walked in a spiral. Which we took as a sign of bewitchment.”
From the doorway, I stared. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
The older woman looked up and caught my eye. “Ah. You must be Caelian Moonweaver.” She crossed the room and offered me a dry, but not unkind, smile.
I returned it with a look I can only describe as barely restrained existential crisis. “I didn’t hex anything. Especially not a goose.” I turned to the elders. “I was practicing a protection ward. In the dirt. For personal study. One minute I’m chewing on an oat cake, the next I’m being arrested…for poultry-related witchcraft?!”
Even the pacing mage stopped mid-step.
The younger scribe was clearly losing the battle to suppress a grin.
The woman exhaled through her nose. “You’ve been detained without authorization. Held for nearly two weeks. And no one thought to follow up on his letter to the Order?”
The head councilman muttered something that might’ve been “we were going to,” but the effect was ruined by the high-pitched wheeze at the end.
The woman turned to Morden next. “You’re the guard?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you at any point believe Mr. Moonweaver had bewitched a goose?”
Morden glanced at me. “No, ma’am. He’s been the best prisoner that I’ve ever held.” Our eyes locked. Did Morden give me a sly wink? My heart fluttered. Thankfully, the woman didn’t notice as she made her note.
There was a long, tense silence.
The pacing mage finally stopped, turned sharply toward the village elders, and barked, “Well? Aren’t you going to apologize to young Master Moonweaver?”
The councilmen exchanged panicked glances. The head elder gave a weak cough. “Well… his name is Moonweaver, after all, and that’s a, you know, historically troublesome name…”
“Moonweaver,” the woman cut in, “is just that…a name. We judge people by their works, not their ancestors.”
One of the other village elders muttered, “But the goose is a trustworthy, upstanding goose.”
The pacing mage rounded on him. “It’s a GOOSE!”
The poor scribe in the back lost it completely, slapping a hand over his mouth to contain a laugh.
The woman took a calming breath, turned back to me, and said with finality, “Come, Mister Moonweaver. You don’t need to be here anymore.”
And just like that, I was being ushered toward the door. No chains. No spells. Just freedom. And Morden, one pace behind me.
The goose, blessedly, was not present.
Outside in the town square, the three from the Order made sure my belongings were returned to me: my traveling case, my satchel of herbs I’d collected along the road, my extra tunic (now mysteriously laundered), and, perhaps most importantly, my half-eaten oat cake, now hopelessly dried out and utterly inedible.
I held it up and sighed. “Tragic. I’ll need to stop by the bakery for a replacement. For closure.”
The Order scribe chuckled as he scribbled furiously. The woman, still businesslike but clearly more relaxed now, was dictating details of my travel papers.
“…And make sure you log his route with the waystations. We’ll want eyes on the road to Waterdeep. His arrival is expected within the week. We will need to arrange for an escort…”
“I’ll take him.”
The words came simply. Morden stood a few paces behind me, posture steady, voice low but clear. The Order representatives turned to look at him, then at the village elders, who had gathered awkwardly by the well and were doing their best impressions of background shrubbery.
There was a tense pause.
Then the head councilman muttered, “We… approve.”
The pacing mage from earlier gave him a sideways glare. “How magnanimous.”
The Order woman nodded briskly. “Very good. We’ll mark you as his official escort.”
I looked up at Morden, a slow smile tugging at my mouth. “Well, well. My own personal guard. I feel important already.”
Morden gave a slight shake of his head, but there was the smallest hint of a smile in return. We left the square behind and walked side by side through the village, the people now avoiding our eyes, or mine at least, with a level of embarrassment that felt almost polite. When we reached the jail, Morden pushed open the door and stepped inside.
“I don’t have much. Most of this came with the job.” He gestured around the room once we got to the small guard’s quarters. “It’ll be easy to pack.”
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “That makes one of us. I’m debating whether I should bring that little poetry book. It has marginalia. Some of it mine. Some of it older and likely enchanted. And it makes me feel mysterious and emotionally unavailable.”
Morden glanced back. “You’re many things, Caelian. Emotionally unavailable isn’t one of them.”
“Oh, you flatter me. But also? Shh. Let me have the mystique.”
He rolled his eyes and started folding a blanket with military precision.
I watched him for a beat, then said, “Once we get to Waterdeep… what will you do?”
He didn’t look up from his bag as he answered. “Might look into the city guard. I know the job.”
I tilted my head. “So you’ll just…stick around?”
“Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”
My heart did an awkward little somersault, which I did my best to ignore.
“What about the village elders?” I asked, mostly to fill the silence. “Won’t they be devastated to lose their one competent employee?”
He shrugged. “They’ll survive.”
“And the goose?”
He paused, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “It’ll learn to cope.”
I grinned. “And you really think babysitting me is a better use of your time than guarding a cell no one ever uses?”
This time, he turned to me fully, eyes steady. “It’s not about guarding you. It’s about being where I want to be.”
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. I covered it with a smirk. “You know if you keep saying things like that, I might get ideas.”
He stepped close, close enough that I could smell that familiar mix of leather and warmth again. “Get them.” His arm curled around my waist and pulled me close by the small of my back.
I swallowed. “I intend to.”
We stood there for a moment longer, tension buzzing between us. Then he leaned in and kissed me with a slow and certain strength, the kind of kiss that made me believe this wouldn’t be over when we reach the city. His lips were warm, and his free hand cupped the side of my jaw, thumb brushing just under my ear.
When we finally pulled apart, I took a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Okay,” I said, grabbing the poetry book off the cot. “Now I’m ready.”
He picked up his pack, slung it over his shoulder, and held the door for me.
Forging: Another Romantically Smutty Little Story by me
Another story that I wrote a few months ago for my imaginary "anthology" that I'm calling "Bonds Of Brotherhood: Tales of Love From the Realms", a set of romantically smutty stories set in Faerun.
This is simply a story of someone who yearns.
I remembered him. Out of all the adventurers who sought me out, sought my craftsmanship, my wares…I remembered him.
I guess I had a reputation that I had established since settling outside this small village nearly a decade ago, a reputation that brought a steady stream of brave souls who wanted the best armor, the best swords, the finest they could find in a fortnight’s journey. Adventurers would come from all across Faerun, looking for my wares to give them an edge against whatever challenge was awaiting them. They came as a constant stream, every few days. Many came more than once. Their faces were a blur.
But not his. I remembered him. And here he was in the dead of night, unconscious and dying on my doorstep.
--
I scooped his big, hulking body up into my arms, a task that I wasn't prepared for but one that lifting crates of metals and minerals and bringing them into my forge helped with. I brought him out of the chilled rain that was permeating the evening air into my humble dwelling and laid him by the fire on a pile of furs that was warming. I propped his head up and checked for signs of life. He was breathing, labored but it was there, and firmly unconscious.
I opened his overcoat and gently took his deeply dented chestplate off. I couldn't help but to momentarily study the plate and shook my head. It wasn't one of mine and I could tell it was made shoddily. The fire wasn't hot enough to fully strengthen the alloy when it was formed, and the smith wasn't patient with his strikes. He was probably mass producing this plate, and probably overcharging for it too.
As I unfastened his belt to check for injuries to his abdomen, something caught my eye. It was a small sheath, carefully worked into the leather, almost invisible unless you knew to look for it. My breath caught as I recognized the hilt of the dagger tucked inside. I had made it, had given it to him two seasons ago when he last visited. He had been examining the longsword he was purchasing, but his eyes kept drifting to this small blade I'd been working on between larger commissions. I watched him run his finger along the intricate pattern I'd worked into the steel, saw something in his eyes that made my heart skip.
"Take it," I had said, the words coming out before I could stop them. When he tried to pay, I waved him off. "Consider it a token of gratitude for the fascinating conversation about weapon craft." He had smiled then, that radiant smile that had haunted my dreams since.
And here it was, still at his side. Not sold off or traded away, but kept close, worn in a custom sheath. My fingers brushed the familiar metalwork before returning to my task. But there would be time for memories later. Turning my attention back to the man, I saw his undershirt was spotted with blood. I slid it up, and saw deep bruises and scrapes underneath the layer of chest hair coating his torso. Nothing pierced or slashed the skin open, but he probably had several broken ribs and from the caked blood in his beard, he was spitting up blood. I balled one of the skins up and scooted it behind his head and went to my chest…I didn’t have much time, and hoped I had…ah, I only had one healing potion left but it would at least stabilize him and help him start to mend. I rushed back to his side, uncorked the small bottle and poured the viscous liquid in the warrior’s mouth, hoping he wouldn’t cough it up. It seemed to pour down his throat enough that I heard a swallow.
Suddenly the inured man coughed up more blood and I wiped it away with the sleeve of my shirt. He tried to say something but I wouldn’t let him. “Shhh. Calm. You’re safe. One more swallow of this and then you can rest more.” He drank the rest of the potion and his head dropped back down onto the furs.
I went and drew some hot water from the kitchen fire’s kettle and a clean rag to clean the man’s face and beard with. Kneeling, I studied his face. Yes, I remembered him, of course I did. I didn’t know his name but a face like his… The last time I saw him was in the spring, two seasons ago. He ultimately bought one of my more simple longsword designs but was fascinated by a greatsword that I just finished. I remember having a fairly meaty conversation about the pros and cons of each type of weapon, even going into warhammers and mauls, though he’d have to find a good dwarf to truly get a quality warhammer. Humans like me could never touch their craftmanship with that kind of weapon.
I actually thought of him occasionally. I would find my mind lingering on his face, ruggedly handsome. His thick, well groomed beard was blonde with gentle streaks of amber, much like his long hair, tied back…I thought of how his beard would look against my dark hair and beard. I would think about his body, broad shouldered like mine, differently built but just as bulky, as our professions groomed us to be. I didn’t know his name but I craved hearing the rich masculine timbre of his voice say mine, whispering it in my ear. I would think about that gleaming smile of his and his arms wrapping around me and his girthy thighs intermingling with mine and…
I suppose those thoughts didn’t have a place right now, with the object of my daydreams in front of my fire a breath from the grave. I used the cloth to wipe the blood from his face the best I could, then let him alone. And then I blew out the candles, threw a couple more logs on the fire to keep my home warm through the night, then went to bed myself, hoping my guest would rest well and heal as much as he could.
--
I was stirring porridge by the fire when I heard him groan. I looked back at him, still laying on the furs, his eyes starting to open.
“Where…?” his deep voice cracked with exhaustion, dehydration, and ache.
“You’re safe.” I left the porridge to cook a little more while I filled a cup with clean water and brought it to him. “Here, drink.” I held the cup up to his lips and he slowly swallowed the cool liquid.
“But where am I?” His eyes turned upward and met mine. They softened. “I know you.”
“You do,” I acknowledged. “You have come here many times. We are in Elmwood, off the coast of the Moonsea.” I stood leaving the cup on the stone floor by him. “Are you hungry? You should probably eat a little something. You need strength to heal.”
“I remember I was coming back to this side of the Galena Mountains, through Bloodstone Pass,” He tried to lift up on his elbows, only half succeeding. “We stumbled upon an ogre’s cave. It was on a cliff.” He paused to catch his breath. “We were trying to sneak by. We just needed to get on the other side to start the descent down.” Another pause. “My two companions didn’t make it. But I kept fighting the ogre. I was trying to best him and almost did but he rushed at me. I was on the cliff’s edge…”
It occurred to me that he was just across the Moonsea from here. I was still in disbelief. “You fell off a cliff?” I nearly raised my voice. I didn’t. “And you survived?”
“I remember hitting the sloping face of the cliff several times,” he gazed at the fire and rolled to take another sip of water. “That must have broke my fall somewhat.”
“It also broke your body.” I kept my voice low. It seemed appropriate. “I’m surprised you survived.”
“I remember finally landing by a river. I remember thinking about my God, the Lord of Light.” The follower of Lathander continued. “I remember feeling myself fade away. I remember feeling sadness, then cold, chilling cold. Then…then I remember feeling a warmth.” His face turned to me. “I remember thinking about you and feeling that warmth. An enveloping warmth that radiated throughout my body.”
“Me?” I uttered at a near whisper.
There was a pause. It was heavy.
“The next thing I can remember is you pouring that potion into my mouth.” I saw him move his legs under the furs on top of him. “My legs aren’t broken. They’re sore. My arms are fine.” He moved his torso and winced. “I probably have some cracked ribs still but I can move. If I can get back out on the road by this aftern--” He started to get up, gritting his teeth in the process.
I rushed to his side, putting my arm under his body, easing him back down on the pile of furs. “No, you will stay and recover and rest.” I gently laid him down and went to fetch two bowls. “You will be my guest.” I looked about. “I have no inn accommodations but I will keep you warm and dry and fed.” I poured some of the porridge into one of the bowls and brought it over to my guest. “Here, let it cool some.” I set the bowl down next to his cup of water. “It’s sweet. I cooked it with honeycomb and spice.” I went to pour myself a bowl.
He let the bowl sit for a few moments, then brought it up to his full lips, chapped from dehydration and injury.
“It’s good.” He nodded while he lifted the bowl again.
I nodded back.
We sat in silence and ate our meal, swallowing the warming meal slowly and alternating staring at the fire and sneaking looks at each other.
“What’s your name?” His question took me by surprise but I realized in all our dealings, we hadn’t ever properly introduced ourselves to each other.
“Matias.” I stated plainly. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Thank you, Matias.” He stared into the fire. “I’m Galen.”
He had a name. This beautiful, broken man had a name. Galen. Why did my heart skip a beat just then?
--
Galen slept more after breakfast and I went about my daily routine. The rain had broke midmorn and I decided that it would be the best chance I had for chopping wood. I had kept my supply of wood and coal in a big shed behind my home. My forge house had been set nearby, where I did my work and kept my wares, and it was easy for me to bring more fuel to both my home and the forge as needed. I went about using my axe and splitting as many logs as I could muster. It was midday when I saw Galen watching me, sitting in a chair I had outside of my backdoor underneath an overhang where I kept a few preserving barrels and a more immediate supply of wood for my hearth.
My rhythm faltered for just a moment. I had done this countless times before, the smooth arc of the axe as natural as breathing, but now… now I felt every movement of my body with an acute awareness. The flex of my arms as I lifted the axe, the twist of my torso with each swing, the way my shirt clung to my back in the humid air. I tried to focus on the task, on the satisfying crack of wood splitting, but I could feel his eyes on me like a physical touch.
I slammed my axe down into a stump and wiped my brow, walking over to him. "You shouldn't be up."
"I needed to get up." He downplayed my concern. The grimace of pain wasn't convincing.
"Could you?"
"I needed to." He looked me square in the eye. "Doesn't matter if I could."
I nodded. I stared at him. Even broken, he was…proud. You could tell it in his face. But there was something else there too, something in the way his eyes lingered on the sweat beading on my collarbone, in the slight flush that colored his cheeks that couldn't entirely be blamed on the effort of getting outside.
He looked at the rolling hills behind my homestead, at the forest in the far view.
I couldn't help but to stare at him for a few moments. The morning light caught in his beard, turning the amber streaks to gold. I had dreamed of that beard, of how it might feel against my skin. I pushed the thought away.
I went back to chopping wood.
I would occasionally look back. Galen was still watching me. I couldn't see his face; it was too far away. But he watched me for a long time. Each time I glanced over my shoulder, I found him still there, still focused entirely on me. The weight of his gaze made my skin burn hotter than the forge’s flame. I wondered what he was thinking, what he saw when he looked at me. Was he simply passing time, or was there something more…?
Maybe I was letting my mind wander in a place it shouldn’t.
I walked back to the house and saw him weakly smile at me as I approached.
“Do you want to go back inside?” I asked.
He slowly nodded.
“Do you need help?”
He paused, but again slowly nodded.
I put my arms out and gently lifted him up by his underarms. While positioning his arm around my shoulder to walk him back in, his face ended up in the nape of my neck. His breath caught slightly…whether from pain or something else, I couldn't tell. But then he leaned in, just slightly, his beard brushing against my skin as he inhaled deeply. The warmth of his exhale sent a shiver down my spine that I tried desperately to hide.
"You smell like woodsmoke," he murmured, his voice rough but tender. "And steel. And something else I can't quite place."
I nearly stumbled at his words, at the intimacy of the moment. Here was this proud warrior, allowing himself to be vulnerable with me, trusting me with his weakness. His fingers gripped my shoulder tighter as we made our way inside, and I found myself walking slower than necessary, savoring each step.
"Pine sap, maybe," I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "From the logs. Or the quenching oil."
He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against my neck. As I lowered him back onto the furs, our eyes met for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. His hand lingered on my arm, and I could feel the calluses on his palm. They were a warrior's hands, different but much like my own.
"Thank you, Matias," he said softly, my name on his lips making my heart race. "For everything."
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing evening out into sleep. Even in rest, his face held a gentle smile that I'd never seen before, not in any of his previous visits to my forge.
I came back to my senses quickly. I went to clean myself and began preparing food for the evening.
--
I ladled the thick stew into two wooden bowls, venison with root vegetables and herbs from my garden. Galen had managed to sit up more fully now, though I could see the effort it took in the tightness around his eyes. I handed him his bowl and settled nearby with my own.
"You know," he said after a few quiet spoonfuls, "We weren’t actually planning to cross through Bloodstone Pass."
I looked up, surprised by the admission.
"The safer route would have been following the coast around," he continued, stirring his stew. "Would have taken longer, but…" He trailed off, his eyes fixed on the fire.
"Then why did you?" I asked softly.
He was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. "I was in Heliogabalus, taking on contracts," he finally said. "I heard traders talking about how the pass had cleared early this year. I knew if I took it…" His hand moved to where the dagger rested at his hip. "I could be here in a fortnight instead of spending two months following the coast." A faint flush colored his cheeks. "I told myself I needed to restock my equipment, that your craftsmanship was worth the risk of the mountain path. But…"
He met my eyes then, and there was something raw in his gaze. "Truth is, I couldn't wait two months. Not when every piece of steel I touched reminded me of that conversation we had. Not when I found myself wondering if you'd…" He stopped, swallowed hard. "If you'd thought about that day as much as I had."
He was quiet for so long I wondered if he might not complete his thought. "I kept thinking about that conversation we had. About weapons, about craft." His fingers absently touched where I knew the dagger rested against his hip. "About how you said a blade needs to be balanced just right, needs to feel like an extension of yourself." He met my eyes then. "That’s how I learned to fight; you have to treat your weapon as your own arm. And you understand that. I've never met anyone who understood it quite like I do. It shows in your work." He slowly spooned some of the stew into his mouth, chewed the softened potato that he had took in and swallowed. “The passion…it shows.”
His eyes met mine and the intensity of his gaze made my heart hammer against my ribs. I found myself sharing things I rarely spoke of. "That's why I left Baldur's Gate," I said. "Everyone there wanted weapons fast and cheap. They didn't care about the soul of the steel."
"The soul of the steel?" His voice held no mockery, only genuine interest.
"My master taught me that every piece of metal has a story to tell, if you listen closely enough." I set my bowl down, remembering. "In the city, they wanted me to rush. To make pretty things that looked impressive but had no heart. Everyone wanted me to be something I wasn't. It all felt… wrong."
"And here?" Galen asked.
"Here I can hear the metal sing." I gestured to my forge outside. I paused, considering how much to share. The warmth of the fire, the intimacy of the moment, made me want to tell him everything. "You know, I wasn't always on my own like this. I studied under Master Clyne in Baldur's Gate for nearly fifteen years. Started when I was just a scrawny teen who could barely lift a shovel of slag."
A small smile played at Galen's lips. "Scrawny? You?"
I chuckled softly. "Hard to imagine, I know. The forge changed that. Fifteen years of hammering steel will do that to you." I absently rubbed my callused hands together. "Master Clyne… he was the best. Taught me everything…how to layer steel just right for armor that's strong but light, how to forge a blade sharp enough to behead an owlbear."
"Like that greatsword I was admiring last spring," Galen said.
"Yes, exactly." I stared into my bowl for a moment. "But the city… it wore on me. Everyone wanted everything fast and cheap. And the taverns…" I trailed off, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
"The taverns?" Galen prompted gently.
"The serving girls there… they were relentless." I saw understanding dawn in his eyes. "Always trying to sit in my lap, touching my arms, playing with my hair. 'Matias,'" I mimicked their high-pitched voices, "'you need a good woman to take care of you!'" I shook my head. "I never had the heart to tell them I wasn't the least bit interested."
Something shifted in Galen's expression…recognition, perhaps? Understanding? He stayed quiet, letting me continue.
"So I left. Found this place when they were rebuilding after the Devastation Orb incident. Started simple, things like farm equipment, horseshoes. But then adventurers started coming, and word spread…" I met his eyes. "And then one day, this warrior walks in, wanting to discuss the merits of longswords versus greatswords, and suddenly I'm having the most fascinating conversation I've had in years."
Galen's breath caught slightly. "I remember that day," he said softly. "I remember thinking I'd never met a craftsman who understood weapons the way you do. Who saw them as more than just tools."
"They're not just tools," I agreed. "Each piece has its own soul, its own story. Master Clyne taught me that. It's why I left the city. I needed space to listen to the metal, to give each piece the attention it deserves."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling between us. Our bowls sat empty, but neither of us moved to clear them away. The moment felt too precious to break.
Finally, Galen shifted, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position on the furs. "I should let you rest," I said, rising to take our bowls. "It's been a long day."
"Matias," he called softly as I turned away. I looked back at him, and in the firelight, his eyes held something warm, something unspoken. He opened his mouth, about to say something, then paused. Finally, he said, “I’m glad I’m here. Good night."
I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "Rest well, Galen."
As I prepared for bed that night, I could still feel the weight of his gaze, still hear the way he'd said my name. And I thought of that as I added another log to the fire and listened to his steady breathing in the flame touched darkness.
--
"There's a hot spring not far from here," I said in the morning, later that week, noticing how Galen winced with every movement. "The warm water might help with the healing. And…" I gestured to the dried blood still matting his hair, the dirt from his fall still ground into his skin. "It might do you good to really clean up."
He nodded gratefully. The walk was slow, Galen leaning on my arm more than I think he wanted to admit. The spring lay in a small clearing, steam rising from its surface in the cool morning air. I'd built a small shelter over it years ago, protecting it from the worst of the elements.
"You can lean on me," I offered as we approached the water's edge. I helped him undress, trying to be clinical about it, but my breath caught as I saw the full extent of his injuries in the morning light. The bruising painted his torso in violent shades of purple and yellow.
Galen caught my expression. "It looks worse than it feels," he said, but his attempt at a reassuring smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
I helped him into the water, supporting his weight as he eased down onto one of the submerged stone ledges I'd placed years ago. His sharp intake of breath slowly turned into a relieved sigh as the warm water enveloped him.
"Let me help you with your hair," I said, beginning to remove my own clothes. I tried to be casual about it, though my heart was hammering in my chest. I'd bathed with others before. It wasn't uncommon in the city bathhouses…but this felt different, more intimate. I slipped into the warm water, keeping a respectful distance as I reached for the soap and cloths I'd brought.
The spring wasn't large, just big enough for perhaps three people to sit comfortably. Steam rose around us as I moved closer to work the soap through his long blonde hair, carefully avoiding the tender spot where he'd hit his head. I was acutely aware of our bare skin, of how the water lapped gently between us with each movement. He began to speak, his voice quiet in the intimate space.
"I had a partner once," he said, the words almost lost in the sound of water dripping from my hands. "Another warrior. We traveled together for years." He leaned back slightly into my touch, and I had to suppress a shiver at the contact. "His name was Theron."
I kept my movements gentle, steady, trying to focus on the task rather than the way the morning light played across the muscles of his shoulders, or how his skin felt under my fingers. I gave him space to continue his story.
"We met in the Dalelands, both of us young and eager to prove ourselves. He was… he understood me. In ways no one else had." Galen's voice caught slightly. "We fought together, lived together, shared everything for five years."
"What happened?" I asked softly, though I feared I knew the answer.
"Wyverns. In the Galena Mountains, ironically enough." His laugh was bitter. "We were escorting a merchant caravan. The poison… I couldn't…" He stopped, took a shaky breath. "After that, I couldn't bear to travel with anyone permanently. These last companions were just… convenient allies for the journey. I barely knew their names."
I rinsed his hair carefully, letting the water carry away both dirt and painful memories. "Is that why you prefer to work alone now?"
"Partly." He was quiet for a long moment as I began cleaning the dirt from his shoulders, mindful of his bruises. "But it's more than that. After Theron… I realized how rare it is to find someone who truly understands you. Someone who sees you as you are, not as what they want you to be."
His words hung in the steam between us. I thought of the tavern girls in Baldur's Gate, of expectations and appearances, of hiding who you really are.
"Your hands are shaking," Galen said softly. I hadn't noticed, but he was right.
I took a steadying breath. "Let me check your bandages. The water should have loosened them."
As I began unwinding the damp bandages, Galen continued, his voice low and intimate in the steam-filled air. "You know what's strange? When I was falling from that cliff, thinking I was going to die…" He winced as I peeled away a bandage stuck to his skin. "I wasn't thinking about Theron. I was thinking about that day in your forge. About the way you talked about steel having a soul."
My hands stilled on his skin. "Galen…"
"And then I woke up here." He turned slightly, meeting my eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if Lathander guided me. The Lord of Light works in mysterious ways."
As if summoned by his words, Galen closed his eyes and murmured something under his breath, a prayer in a language I didn't understand. A faint golden glow emanated from his hands where they rested on the water's surface, and I watched in amazement as some of the angry purple bruising across his ribs faded to a softer yellow-green.
The morning sun filtering through the shelter's slats caught in his damp hair, turning it to gold. Water droplets clung to his beard, and I found myself fighting the urge to brush them away. The warm water made me feel both relaxed and hyper aware of every point where our bodies nearly touched. I reached for the fresh bandages I'd brought, trying to keep my breathing steady.
"These wounds are healing well," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "The potion did its work."
"You did your work," he corrected softly. "Both then and now. Lathander's blessing works better when there's already care and healing present."
My fingers trembled slightly as I wrapped the clean bandage around his ribs. We were close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, smell the soap in his hair mingling with his natural scent. The intimacy of the moment felt almost overwhelming. I was grateful for the clouded water and steam that provided some modesty, though my body's reaction to his proximity made me nervous.
I thought I saw him slightly lean into my touch. Did his face lean in closer to mine?
"I should give you some privacy," I said, securing the last bandage. "Will you be alright on your own?"
"I think I can manage," he said, but there was something in his voice. Disappointment? Resignation? "Though…would you mind staying in here? Just in case?"
I nodded, moving to the opposite side of the spring. "Of course. Take your time."
As I sat there, watching the steam rise between us, listening to the gentle sounds of water and Galen's movements, I thought about what he'd said about understanding, about being seen. And I wondered if perhaps we'd both been searching for the same thing all along.
--
The sun had set hours ago. I'd stoked the fire one last time for the night, watching as Galen tested his healing body, slowly stretching his arms above his head. The bandages I'd wrapped that morning were still secure, but he moved with much more ease now.
"The spring helped," he said, catching me watching him. He lowered his arms, turning to face me. "Your care helped more."
I couldn't look away from his eyes, warm and intense in the firelight. The way he was looking at me… it was the same way he'd looked at me in the spring, but now there was something more. Something certain.
"Matias," he said softly, taking a step toward me. "When I was in Heliogabalus, taking those contracts… every night I dreamed of your forge. Of the way your hands touched the steel you were displaying for me. Of your voice when you spoke about the soul in the metal."
My heart thundered in my chest as he took another step closer. In his beard, I could see the flecks of bronzed light reflecting from the fire, smell the soap from the spring still clinging to his skin. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage.
"When you first came to my forge," I said, my voice rough with emotion, "I couldn't focus on my work for days after. The way you understood the steel, the way you handled each blade with respect…" I swallowed hard. "I found myself hoping you'd return, making up reasons why you might need new equipment." I couldn’t speak above a whisper. “Why have I thought about you this entire time? Why have you never left me?”
Galen's breath caught, but I continued, the words spilling out now that I'd started. "And these past few days, tending to you, being near you… I've thought about every moment we shared in the spring. About how right it felt to have you here, in my home, by my fire." I took a tentative step forward, close enough now to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I think I've been dreaming of this moment since the day you first walked through my door."
His eyes darkened, and I watched as his hand lifted, hesitating just inches from my face. "Please. Tell me," he whispered, "tell me I'm not misreading this."
His broad chest pressed up against mine, and I felt a spark as our lips touched for the first time. I felt his thick erection, restrained by thin cloth that girded his loin, brush against mine, which threatened to rip out of my own breeches. His fingers tightened in my hair as our kisses grew more heated. Each press of his lips, each brush of his tongue against mine, felt like stoking a fire that had been banked for far too long.
"Your ribs," I managed to gasp between kisses, even as my hands slid up his back, feeling the strong muscles there. "I don't want to hurt you…"
"You won't," he breathed against my mouth. "You're too careful with precious things."
That undid me completely. I pulled back just enough to look at him, to really look at him in the firelight. His hair was mussed where I'd run my fingers through it, his lips were reddened from our kisses, and his eyes… his eyes held such warmth, such trust.
"Come to bed," I whispered, the words both a question and a plea.
He answered by taking my hand, interlacing our fingers. I led him to my bedroom, our steps slow, deliberate. Every few steps we'd stop, unable to resist pulling each other close for another kiss, another touch.
When we reached my bed, Galen drew me down beside him on the furs. His hands were gentle as they explored my shoulders, my chest, as if he was learning me by touch. I was just as careful with him, mindful of his healing body but unable to stop myself from touching, from tasting.
"I've dreamed of this," he murmured against my throat. "Of your hands on me…"
I answered by trailing my fingers down his chest, relishing in his soft downy hair covering it, learning the feel of him, the way his breath hitched when I touched sensitive spots. His skin was warm under my palms, and I could feel his heart racing to match my own. When my hand brushed the edge of his bandages, he caught it in his, bringing it to his lips.
"I want you," he whispered against my fingers. "All of you."
We took our time undressing each other, each newly revealed expanse of skin explored with reverent touches and gentle kisses. When he was finally bare before me, I couldn't help but marvel at him, at how the firelight played across his body, his beautiful bounty of fur, at how his eyes darkened with desire as he looked at me.
"You're beautiful," I breathed, and he pulled me down on top of him for a deep kiss that left us both gasping.
His hands roamed my chest, dragging through my chest hair, fingertips finding my pert nipples, strumming and flicking, My head threw back in pleasure as I ground my penis into his, already starting to drip his honey and coat both of our members.
We moved together like we'd done this a thousand times before, like our bodies knew each other's rhythms instinctively. His fingers dug into my shoulders, his beard rough against my neck as he pressed closer. I whispered his name over and over, like a mantra, like a blessing.
The way I slid my body down his, planting kisses down his abdomen, across his bandages, down to nuzzle into his pubic mound, my beard meeting his cockfur, savoring the taste as my tongue dragged along the length of his veiny shaft. I took his bulbous head into my mouth, digging my tongue into his foreskin and swirling it around. I used my lips to milk more precum onto my tongue, greedy, wanting more and more with every whimper I invoked from my lover’s lips.
I pushed his legs back and saw the split of his ass was hairy too. My delight was evident in my actions as I dove in, spreading, licking, tasting his most private of parts. Still fresh from the bath this morning, I lapped at his quivering hole as he squirmed onto my bearded face, silently begging for more and more.
After an eternity of my warrior writhing on my tongue, gasping and pulling fistfuls of my hair, he was finally able to speak one word.
“Please…”
I could not deny him.
I rose up and found the bedside bottle of oil I used for lonely nights. Coating my cock well, I smeared the excess on his hairy, twiching hole. Using my hips to spread his legs, I kept his gaze as I thumbed my hood back and pushed my fat cock into him.
Slow. Steady. Easy. I entered him. I slid in, gentle as I could, until I was completely inside. We were one. I lowered my body on top of Galen and languidly intertwined my tongue with his.
A tender, slow, methodical rhythm developed. In. Out. In. Out. Not speeding up. Not rushing. Partly because I did not want to hurt Galen, but also because I wanted this to last. I wanted to be inside him all night. I wanted to make love to him just as I wanted to make love to him the first time I saw him, the first time I showed him my work, the first time I showed him my passion. I was showing him my true passion now.
I used the blunt of my fuck to make sure I hit his inside button every stroke. It seemed his was extra sensitive, because with every stroke, his heavy member flung sticky wads of dick honey across both our bellies. The whole scene, his wet cock jumping, his chest heaving, the bliss painted on his face…it was a sight to behold. It was a scene I never wanted to end. I knew, I just knew, that I would never forget this moment.
When we reached our peak, it was together. He started first, his moans becoming louder, nearing cries. His eyes going from slammed shut to wide open, to rolling in the back of his head, all within the matter of moments. With a sharp inhale and a small whimper, his cock pulsed and spasmed, flinging ropes of hot, thick jism haphazardly all over us, hitting his beard, my chest, our stomachs, finally twiching and jerking, letting the remainder pool on his abdomen. That’s all it took for me to go. I fell to my elbows, hovering above his breathless body. I heard myself let a deep, gutteral sigh out and went over the edge. I felt as if my souls were emptying out inside Galen’s hot, grasping tunnel. I felt each strong contraction pump out more and more of my seed, marking my lover, making him mine, making me his, bonding us for the first time, but not the last. I stayed in that position until my cock slipped out, and I fell to the side. We lay, clutching each other tight, in the afterglow, tangled in the furs, our breathing slowly evening out, neither willing to let go.
"Stay," I whispered again into his hair, and felt him smile against my chest.
"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," he murmured, pressing a kiss over my heart.
We fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms, the fire burning low beside us. And for the first time in years, I felt completely, utterly at home.
--
The sound of hoofbeats made me look up from my forge. I knew those particular beats - the way his horse always seemed to canter just a bit faster as they approached home. Home. The word still brought a smile to my face, even after all these months.
I set down my hammer just as Galen dismounted in the yard. He was dusty from the road, his armor bearing new scratches that I'd no doubt be tending to later, but his eyes lit up the moment they found mine.
"Lover.” His voice was so tender whenever he saw me for the first time after a quest. "I brought you something," he said by way of greeting, already reaching into his saddlebag. He pulled out what looked like a few dragon's scales, each nearly as big as my palm, with an iridescent sheen that caught the sunlight. "From the white dragon we faced in the Spine. I thought you might be able to work them into something beautiful."
"I already have something beautiful to work with," I said, pulling him close despite the road dust. His laugh rumbled against my chest as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I missed you," he murmured into my neck. "Even knowing you were here, waiting… these weeks felt like years."
I breathed him in, leather and sweat and that indefinable something that was purely Galen. "I have some new pieces to show you," I said, nodding toward the forge. "Made them with you in mind. The greatsword especially…"
"Later," he said, his fingers threading through my hair. "Right now, the only masterwork I'm interested in is right here in my arms."
"Your companions?" I started, though I was already melting into his touch.
"…Are settling in at the inn for a few days' rest," he finished. "They know where to find me if they need me. Though they better not need me until at least tomorrow."
I smiled against his lips. "Welcome home, my love."
"Home," he agreed, kissing me deeply. When we parted, he pressed his forehead to mine. "You know, I used to think being a wandering warrior was my calling. But now I understand…every path I took, every road I traveled, was just leading me here. To you." His fingers traced my jaw gently. "Lathander knew what he was doing that night, guiding me to your door. I was barely conscious, but I remember feeling his light, warm like your forge fire. It led me to you."
"To us," I corrected softly, and led him inside, to our bed, to our life together.
The dragon scales could wait. The forge could wait. The world itself could wait. Right now, all that mattered was that Galen was home, and I was complete.
Trash and Treasure: Another Romantically Smutty Little Story by Me
Yes I'm back and I'm going to be posting a few stories I've wrote in the past few months. I've started writing stories set in Faerun (thanks BG3) and it's becoming a little series I'm calling "Bonds Of Brotherhood: Tales of Love From the Realms"
I really hope you like this one. It's about figuring out that you're not your past through the love of another.
I stared into the fire at our camp. It had been dark for a couple of hours but yet neither one of us was tired. I fiddled with the long braid coming from my right temple, the silver beads shining in the fire’s glow. I loved these beads. The old woman who sold them to me in Neverwinter said they would contrast with the chestnut tones in my dark hair, and would bring out the jade tones in my green eyes. The old woman said that my eyes were beautiful. Of course she was flattering me so that I would buy them but she was right, they did flatter me. I loved putting them in my hair. They made me feel beautiful, and ever since I was a boy, I always wanted to be one of the beautiful ones. I never was.
I started putting balm on the points of my ears. They weren’t as pointed as a full-blooded elf but they were pointed enough that they would get dry. I hated them. I wish I would look more human, or more elf, not the half breed I was. My face wasn’t as narrow as an elf, but my jaw wasn’t as square as a human man would be. I only had slightly angular features, and my body was almost as stocky and broad shouldered as a human was, but not quite. I didn’t look right. Some said they liked the way I looked but I knew they were just being nice.
Therion was laying on his bedroll, head propped on his pack and was staring at the stars. Much like the dancing flames of the fire were illuminating the beads in my hair, they cast a gentle glow on his profile. His nose contrasted strongly against his deep-set dark eyes. The shadows played on his tanned face, then blended seamlessly into his thick beard. Likewise did they blend into his chest, his body hair peeking from his half open shirt. That’s one thing that I always admired about full blooded human men: the ability to be absolutely covered in soft, downy fur. As a half-elf, I was able to grow some, just a little trail down my torso, but it wasn’t like he had.
He was so handsome, so big and tall and broad-shouldered, of a hearty stock compared to my more lithe frame. He was one of the beautiful ones. I had thought so since the day I met him two years ago.
--
I had started adventuring out of necessity. I got tired of working for scraps. I didn’t have a good upbringing; my mother died when I was very young, and my father gave me up, his elvish blood calling him to the wild and not desiring to be tied down rearing a child. As such, when I was twelve, the orphanage seemed to have no further use to me, the ugly half elf child they always hated to take care of anyway, and I started scraping by on the streets of Luskan, a port city rife with pirates and smugglers. At times I was an errand boy, a storeroom sweeper, and when I was older a pickpocket, a prostitute, and a thief…I did what I needed to survive. But Therion didn’t care about any of that. He called me a good person. We first met when I was trying to defend a family from a pack of goblins trying to rob them. I couldn’t let those poor kids be hurt. I couldn’t let that hobbled man and his wife be robbed blind. I couldn’t let those kids be scared, scared like I was when I was a kid. Therion happened upon us just in time to take care of the final one in the band. He helped clean up the family’s overturned cart and patted me on the back, saying that it was good to know that there were good adventurers still out there. I smiled, even though I wasn’t that good. We joined up with the others shortly after but we always felt like kindred spirits in that way. He had been raised as an orphan too, only he was given to the Waterdeep city guard when his Uncle saw no further use for him. “I was kicked out when I had the audacity to have a moral compass,” He would say. Now that he was out, he decided to find his fortune on the road.
“Adrik, we’re both trash in this world,” He would tell me. “But someday, we’ll be treasure.”
The thought always made me smile.
The first time we had a major fight and I saw him in combat…that’s when I knew. He wasn’t some ordinary merc slasher flunky. This party had really lucked out finding him. Back then, it was me, and him, and Syndra and Rania, twin elven sisters who were clerics of Corellon Larethian. Vuldred was there, his spellbook always handy to have in a fight. That was before we picked up Torrus the dwarf, but he would come shortly after, another strong arm with his warhammer. And of course, there was me. I was handy with a hand crossbow and I had my daggers. I remember holding my own in it but that first fight…Therion was magnificent. We had come across a kobold nest, a huge one, and there were dozens of them. It seemed an endless fight. I had both daggers painted with blood and they still kept coming. But that didn’t stop me from being in awe of Therion. He nearly glowed like a paladin with holy energy when he swung his sword, cleaving two at a time. Sweat glistened across his brow as he shoved and plowed through the throngs of attackers, all clawing and tearing and jabbering their strange language. But he didn’t falter. With every swing of his shining sword, he commanded presence. He was passion. He was power. He was force personified. He was regal. He was majestic. He was a god among the material world. He was beautiful.
And now he was laying across the fire from me.
I was surprised when he said that he wanted to come with me. The group was in between quests. Therion had always had a soft spot for helping the kind, the poor, the downtrodden and we had just got done retrieving a family amulet for a very nice older farmer and his wife in Turmish. It was all they had owned, all that they had left of their legacy and it had been stolen. They couldn’t pay much, but Therion convinced the group that we could run into some good loot when the pursuit of the thieves had led to an old temple of a long forgotten god that they were using as a hideout. It had yielded some pretty good items out of it, and surprisingly lots of gold. I made sure to sneak a good amount of my gold to the old couple, to help them stave off the impending poverty of their failing farm. It made me feel good, and there was plenty left over for my own pocket. Despite the riches, it was indeed rough fighting all the undead in the temple so we all decided to take some time off, enjoy the spring, enjoy our heavy purses for once, and reconvene in Baldur’s Gate by Midsummer. Adventuring could be lucrative but taxing, as one can imagine. Time off helped recharge one’s courage and mental fortitude. The twins were going back to their Order and would be resting there. Vuldred would head to Baldur’s Gate straightway, as he had business in the city. Torrus would be doing some trading in Amn before heading to the Sword Coast.
And I? I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Maybe head back to Cormyr where I had spent a short time before I found our band, though nothing of interest remained for me there. Hell, I might as well go down to Ormpur and work a little there again, though the work there that I’d find most easily might not be the kind I’d want to get back into. It was definitely not work I’d want to expose Therion to. There was always the fields though…Mainly I just wanted to wander somewhere without the major fear of something actively working towards my demise. I had too many evil lords, wizards, and ghouls after me in the recent past. I needed to put my mind at ease. Wandering, traveling, it did that, and I was shocked when Therion asked if he could tag along. He was of a similar mindset as I…nothing to go back to, no home base anymore. Just life on the open road. Live by the sword and d—well, maybe not die by the sword just yet. I hope not.
I broke the silence of the campfire. “I was thinking of maybe heading down to Ormpur. Maybe getting some work down there. I know we don’t need to work right now but…” I kept my gaze on Therion who had rolled on to his side and was staring at the flames licking the wood that fueled it. “I haven’t been there in years. Have you ever been?”
“No, never been that far south.” His voice was a soothing baritone. It calmed my nerves when I heard in in hushed tones like now. “You worked in the spice trade down there?”
“I had business there.” I kept it ambiguous. I didn’t speak much about what I had to do to survive before adventuring, but I can tell you, it was the same as in Luskan as it was in Ormpur; those lusty men coming off the tradewinds had plenty of coin to offer in exchange for a tender touch, for love (or at least a reasonable facsimile). I was one of the best to offer, too. They all called me beautiful, and even though I never was beautiful, it felt nice hearing it. “It’s a nice city. Could be some work there. Easy shit for you. Lots of counting houses need guards there. The boarding houses are clean.”
Therion rolled over on his back again. “But if we were in a boarding house, I wouldn’t be sleeping close to that beautiful spring over yonder. I wouldn’t be able to lean back and count the twinkling stars. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to gaze at you over a campfire.” He turned his head to me, flashing his goofy grin.
I hoped my blush wouldn’t show in the dim light. “I…we’d…still be traveling together. I mean, we have to be in the same place in a few months. And you wanted to come with me, even though I didn’t know where I was going.”
Therion stared up at the dark night’s sky and yawned a little. “Doesn’t matter where we go, honestly. Ormpur might be nice. I’ve never been there.” He smiled softly. “I figure as long as I have you around, I’ll be okay, you know?”
I threw another log in the fire ring and lay back, smiling a soft smile myself. “I do. And I’m glad you’re here, too.”
--
Morning came and the first thing I noticed was that Therion wasn’t in his bedroll. His equipment was still here, he must have just wandered off. I noticed his footprints trailing off in the direction of the spring. Figuring he went to clean some of his gear, I followed. My boots needed rinsed off and this was a good opportunity.
I was not prepared for the scene I walked in on. Therion, naked, lounging on a boulder by the pool of water, bare for the morning sun to shine on. My breath was immediately taken away.
He hadn’t seen nor heard me, and for that I was lucky. I ducked behind a bush and then was frozen, silent. I couldn’t help but to spy on my companion. I assumed that he must have just finished bathing and was drying off but once I saw his hands roaming over his big beautiful body, I couldn’t help but to let out a whisper of a whimper. Not more than 10 feet away, I watched as he writhed under his own touch and I was captivated.
Therion’s left hand pawed at his furry, meaty breast and his mouth opened in a silent moan as his fingertips strummed the protruding nipple. His right hand found the meadow of hair across his torso, then trailed down until it found the forest in between his legs, and right in the middle of that forest, a tall redwood stood strong and proud. Therion’s fingers gently grasped his cock, making full, soft strokes up and down. His loose foreskin rolled up and down, becoming more and more wet with his own juices the more he let go and gave in to his pleasure. His back arched, his pelvis rolled, his toes curled, his chest heaved with heavy breath as his fist became more insistent in it’s motion.
I watched him stare at his heavy penis, a veil of lust on his face, and I couldn’t help but to wonder if that’s what he would look like if my nose were rolling his musky balls around my face, if my tongue was lapping at his cock head, if that’s how he would look if I was on top, sliding him inside me as deep as it would go. My arsehole quivered at the thought, and my own dick throbbed to attention. This man, this perfect human male specimen, I wanted him like I had wanted no one else before and now. I wanted him more than food; I would feast upon his body. I wanted him more than water; his kiss would quench my thirst. I wanted him more than air; I would breathe his scent in and it would refresh me. I wanted him more than a warm blanket and a fire at night; his strong embrace would keep me warm and safe. I wanted him.
I watched, then saw his eyes roll back. His jaw clinched and he let out a deep, guttural moan. It was starting. His hips bucked and rolled and he reach the point of no return. The first few thick ropes of jism flew out across his furred stomach. The rest bubbled out, slopping up his knuckles and matting down his pubic bush. Therion writhed with convulsions as his impressive meat flung seed until there was no more to get out. His body then slowly relaxed and loosened up, laying back as if the boulder was cuddling him, a baby after a sweet lullaby.
I watched him until he languidly sat up and rolled back into the spring to clean himself up. I suddenly felt shame at spying. I felt so dirty, so ugly….really the way I felt every day of my life. An ugly person who has had to do ugly things to survive. I tried to not be that way anymore but I couldn’t escape it. I was ugly.
But Therion…my gods, but Therion…He was beautiful.
I slunk back to camp. I would clean my boots another day.
--
It would take us a week or so to get down to Ormpur. A part of me was actually looking forward to seeing the port city again. The salt air from the sea mixing with the deep scents of the spice cargo being loaded and unloaded from the ships. Ormpur was known as a hub of the spice trade, for no other reason that the city’s outlaying lands were home to fields of saffron crocus. It had been ten years since I had seen those fields and we would be coming in just as they were in bloom. It would be beautiful.
I did miss the city and genuinely was happy I’d be visiting again. I would just have to figure out a way to avoid the places from my past that weren’t so beautiful.
My heart hurt for the first couple of days after spying on Therion. I think he knew something was wrong, because he seemed to be extra kind to me. The first night in camp, he offered me the best of the our nightly rations, giving me an extra slice of of the moist part of the cheese wedge, instead taking for himself the dried out part, which gave me a smile. I remember staring at the fire as I slowly ate the nuts and dried fruits when I saw his big hand, knuckles fuzzy as his forearm, offer me the cheese. Looking up, I saw his kind smile as me and it made my heart warm to his expression.
It was the second night, and it was the dark of the moon. I had my whetstone out, sharpening my daggers and utility knife around the fire. The darkness surrounded us, the fire the only light around us. I was grinding one of the blades when I hear a soft melody surround my head.
I looked up and I saw Therion reclined with a small panflute, blowing with an ease about him and creating the gentle sound.
“Didn’t know you were a satyr,” I quipped dryly. “you’re as hairy as one.”
Therion stopped and turned his head to me. “Is it bothering you?”
“No, it’s nice,” I reassured. “Just didn’t know you played.”
“I received some bardic training in The Guard.” I noticed a wistful look on Therion’s face. “Picked up a few tricks from a…friend.” I saw his eyes shift, with an air of sadness to them.
“A friend?”
“Yeah,” I saw his lips purse. “We were very close.”
“I’ve had friends who were very close,” I offered. “Love hurts in the end. We’re not close anymore.”
“It…does.” He sighed. “His name was Palluc.” Therion swallowed dryly. “I had never been in love, you know?”
I was surprised at the admission. “I had no idea you were…”
“I had no idea either, until I met him. I just thought that I was too focused on the Guard for women.” He sighed heavily. “I had thoughts, you know…but I didn’t…I didn’t think…I don’t know.” A beat. “I--I thought that all men had thoughts about each other. But I guess not.” His voice cracked. “Palluc, he was my training partner. I was struck the first time I saw him. And when we did hand-to-hand drills for the first time, our chemistry was immediate. He’s the one who taught me how to play. That night, we got really drunk.” Therion let out a chuckle. “We fooled around. Got lost in each other’s arms. His kiss was so sweet. That’s when he started teaching me to play. He gave me this set of pipes. He said just play with your heart he said.” His thumb wiped away a burgeoning tear. “Then it changed. We were just fooling around, he said. Just doing what we needed to. Blowing off steam. You are getting too into it, he said. We can’t continue this, he said. He asked for a transfer to another unit. We never spent time around each other after that. I think our superiors knew.” He breathed heavy. “Funny how I went from never even realizing that I was into guys to getting my heart broken severely within the span of only a half a year. I bet you weren’t as dumb as me, Adrik.”
“You aren’t dumb at all.” My heart ached for Therion. “But you’re right. I knew very early.” I wiped the oil from the now sharp utility knife. I moved on to a dagger.
“You did?”
I took my first grind on the somewhat dull blade. “I just didn’t have a name for it. Just a few of the older boys I knew could do no wrong. I was wrong.” I paused. “Cale. He was everything I wanted to be. He was beautiful. Tall and handsome and he knew how to turn on the charm when he wanted something. Too bad he wanted something all the time. I was in love. And he manipulated those feelings I had for him. Asked me to do things. For him and others.” I turned the blade over and evened out the point. “Bad things. Things that hurt my soul. And when the men he whored me out to, who I stole from, when they had no more interest in me, Cale tossed me aside.” I sighed. “But hey, made me into what you see today.”
“What happened to him?” I could tell that Therion was hesitant to ask. I didn’t mind.
“I saw him starting the same thing on a few of the younger boys in our crew.” I looked up and right into Therion’s eyes. “Then I made sure that he would never hurt anyone again.” I looked back down and continued sharpening. “I stuck around to make sure the new kids were okay, found them legit jobs, made sure they had a roof to sleep under and a hand feeding them, and then I took off. The kids were sad to see me go but…I just wanted to make sure they would be okay. But being around them reminded me of Cale. I couldn’t stay.”
There were a few minutes where we just sat with the silence between us. Then Therion broke the silence.
“Remember, Adrik,” he nearly whispered. “We’ll be treasure someday.”
After a couple of moments, my eyes darted up briefly to Therion. He had a mournful look. He turned and started playing the soft melody again. It gave me a small bit of comfort.
He already was treasure to me, his body and his face and his heart. He was beautiful.
--
We had been working for a trader’s warehouse for a week and it felt like good honest work. Therion had been putting his good muscles to work loading and unloading ships. I had been more of a courier, running manifests and documents between the various trading houses. It still was good work. And it felt good when we got our week’s pay.
“Well then, Adrik,” Therion jingled the coins in his purse as we walked along. “I believe a good week’s work deserves a nice evening. Should we hit one of the taverns?”
I tensed up a little. “I mean, I suppose we could,” I decided to feign being tired. “I kinda just want to go back to the boarding house and sleep some.”
“Oh, come on! It will be fun!” Therion’s eyes lit up. “There’s that tavern down by the docks. It always looks lively! We’ll get a pint, have a meal…” His grin was beaming. “We deserve it!”
I couldn’t say no to him. Anyway, what’s the chance that anyone would recognize me from back then, if they were still around?
We walked into The Singing Whale, which was one of the taverns I frequented back in the day. I would meet men there, lure them in, sell a small bit of my time for a good price, and if I didn’t particularly like them, I’d lift their coin purses. Only if they deserved it, of course, and I always made sure to spread the wealth along. There was a street kid who roamed around the docks, trying to hustle up what work he could for a bite to eat…I was always sure to give him a shiny gold piece that would keep him fed for a few days. He was a half elf too, only redheaded instead of my brown hair. Still, he reminded me of myself, and I didn’t want him going hungry.
I took a deep breath and the scent was immediately familiar. It was a heady mix of the food cooking in the back, the ale spilled on the ground, the wood of the walls soaked with the sea air, the slight musk of the swarthy sailors that would flood the tavern every time they landed, eager for some enjoyment. It wasn’t too busy, but there were a good amount of people in there. We found a table and sat down, Therion obviously drinking in the scenery, me relishing some of the memories coming into my mind, and also trying to ignore some others.
A barmaid came and took our order. The special was their lamb stew which was always a favorite of mine. I hoped it tasted the same as back then. We were waiting for our order when Therion stood up.
“I need to find the chamber pot, Adrik.” I nodded my understanding and he wandered off. As soon as he left the table, someone came up behind me.
“Are you gentlemen lonely tonight?” A male voice, honeyed with seduction, purred behind me. “Would you like some company?”
I turned and looked up. It was a male half-elf, long red hair, tender green eyes, and a face that I recognized, however aged some.
“Adrik, is that you?” He jolted with surprise. “It’s me, Gathin!”
The boy I used to slip gold to had grown into a beautiful young man. And he had obviously found steady work doing what I used to.
“Well hello,” I was genuinely surprised, but happy to see him. “Sit down, it’s been a long time!”
He beamed at seeing me again. “I didn’t know you were in town again. I saw that man you’re with. You’re not…working, are you?”
I looked down and chuckled. “No, he’s a friend.” It stung a little that he thought I was still in the life, but he didn’t know any better. “I’m an adventurer now. I’m just in town getting a little side work on the farms outside the city walls.”
“Is that so?” Gathin seemed impressed. “That’s great! I’ve thought about other things I could be doing but this seems to be what I’m good at.” He looked down, a twinge of shame in his eye. “At least I can feed myself, I suppose. I might start working at one of the houses soon. Better than trolling the taverns, you know? Safer.”
“True. I really hope that works out for you.” I gently took his hand. “I always wanted you to be okay, you know? I’m glad you’re still kicking around.”
He looked me in the eyes with gratitude. “There were many times when you made a difference for me, I want you to know. I’ve never forgotten that.”
“GATHIN!” I heard a loud, booming voice that sent chills down my spine. I instantly recognized that voice.
“Oh, I have to go,” Gathin looked worried. “It’s a regular of mine. He’s a mean one but he always gives me good coin.” He stood and so did I. He embraced me tight. “It’s so good to see you. Hopefully we can catch up more before you leave the city.”
“I’d like tha—” I was cut off by a big, ugly half-orc stomping up. Greenish tanned skin, sparse hair on top, one big tusk, the other tusk broken off to a jagged point, beady black eyes that were filled with piss and vinegar. I recognized him, that hideous, ugly beast dressed in a loose white shirt and tight leathers, a calling horn on one side of his belt. On the other, a shiny cutlass. It was Wark the Stormbringer. He was once one of my regulars too.
“Gathin! There you are! I’ve been…” His gaze turned to be and his eyes narrowed. “Well, lookit who we have here.” A sneering grin spread across his disgusting face. “Well, well, Adrik, I never thought you’d show your face around here. The last time I saw you, you robbed me blind. Stole 200 gold from me.”
I let out a laugh that was more scared than humorous. “Hello Wark, didn’t think you’d still be alive, That was ten years ago, after all.”
“Oh I’m still alive, and I think you owe me.” He grabbed me by the arm, hard, his clawed grip digging into my flesh, his voice a cruel growl. “I think you owe me a few things.”
“I owe you nothing, arsehole.” I tried to twist myself from his grasp, getting more forceful. “Let me go, you’re hurting me!” I spat in his face. “Fuck you! Let me go!”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Wark let out a positively evil guffaw. “You remember it! I like it when you fight a little!”
“What’s going on here?!” Therion’s voice boomed from behind me. “Let him go!”
“Who’s this?” Wark’s eyes narrowed, focusing in on my companion who was closing the gap. “Is this who’s buying your arse tonight?”
Therion suddenly appeared by my side and grabbed hold of Wark’s wrist, breaking the orc’s grasp on me and twisting the claw into a submission hold. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Therion’s voice was controlled but still boiled with rage.
Wark shook off Therion’s grasp easily and took a step back. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I own this dock. I’ll have what I please!”
Wark balled his fist and took a wide swing at Therion, which he easily ducked. Therion rose up sharply, headbutting the orc in the jaw, then spun sharply, swinging an elbow into Wark’s temple. The orc was staggered, and Therion used that to his advantage. He kicked his knee up, landing a vicious gut shot. Wark doubled over, his breath lost. Therion brought both of his clinched fists together and brought them down forcefully on the back of Wark’s head, finally knocking the goliath unconscious and collapsing his big body on the floor.
The barmaid walked up, nonchalant. “Well, then, about time someone did that lout in. He’s deserved it for years!” She set two plates of stew down on the table as two barmen came to drag Wark’s limp body outside. “Now, y’ready to eat?”
--
We were back at the boarding house, and Therion had used some of this pay to get us a private room, figuring that we needed some privacy after the night at the tavern. Therion hadn’t said anything to me after leaving the tavern. I hadn’t said anything either.
He requested the innkeep upgrade us to a private room and suggested that this might be our last night here. I wanted to protest but it happened so quick. I just went along with it. He must have thought I caused too much trouble to stick around in this city. It was for the best.
I sat on the bed on the left, he on the right. He was looking at me, I could feel it. I couldn’t look up to meet his gaze. He must have been furious at me. I suddenly was that scared young boy again, when Cale would get so angry at me for not bringing back enough coin, screaming at me that I needed to pickpocket more unsuspecting tourists, sneak around more merchant stalls, entice more horny men…I felt myself shake a little. I wanted to break out into a sob. I didn’t, though. I never cried anymore. Never.
“Adrik…” His soft baritone wandered into my ears. I felt my ear points shiver.
“I’m sorry,” I cut him off with a shaky hushed tone. “I’m sorry I caused trouble. I’m sorry I ruined our time here. I should have known.” I swallowed. Hard. My head collapsed into my hands. “We can leave in the morning. You must be so embarrassed. I’m sorry.”
I finally peeked at Therion, stealing a glance at his face. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look furious. He looked…sad, worried. I immediately felt worse.
“Are you alright?” His voice was even, no pique of rage at all. It was tender, kind. I’ve heard that tone before. It was a tone he always used with people we defended, people we rescued. Was I just another rescue to him?
I inhaled sharply, immediately steeling myself while taking off my tight leather jacket. “I’m fine. I’ve fought off meaner and uglier.” I went to take my overshirt off and revealed a nasty bruise on my arm where Wark had grabbed me. Guess he grabbed me harder than I thought.
Therion gasped a little. “You’re hurt…” He got up off of his bed and came over, kneeling in front of me to look at the bruise, tenderly touching me. “Did he pierce the skin?”
I jerked the arm away from him. “I said I’m fine.” I said roughly. “I don’t need your pity, Therion.”
I looked at him and saw his eyes drop. My words wounded him, I could tell.
“Is that what you think of me?” He whispered. “That I pity you? That I think so little of you?”
I was confounded. “What?”
He looked up at me, his eyes starting to well up. “Adrik, I saw him…I saw him hurting you. I thought he was going to…”
“Don’t you care what he was saying?” I was so confounded. “You heard that, right?”
“I did…”
“He used to…I used to do so many ugly things, Therion. I whored. I stole. I did both with him, to him.” I dropped my guard. “I promise, it has been years since I’ve done anything like that. But what I did back then…I did what I had to in order to survive.”
“I don’t doubt that, Adrik.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to do such awful things.”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. It was the first time I shed a tear in many, many years. “Don’t you care about what I did? I did horrible, ugly things. I’m a thief. I’m a murderer. I’m a whore.” More tears came. “Don’t you care?”
“And don’t you realize that was in the far past?” Therion pushed back. “You have done so many good things since I’ve known you, Adrik. So many good things.” He let out a quiet laugh. “You don’t think I noticed when you slipped that older couple some coin back there in Turmish? A bad person wouldn’t have done that.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve always been so ugly. Everyone’s told me that since I was a child. I’ve done so many ugly things.” I was crying now. Tears poured down my face. “My face, my body, my soul…I’m so ugly, Therion. So, so ugly.”
I felt his hand come up to my face. It cradled my jaw and he used his thumb to wipe away a tear. “You’re beautiful, Adrik.”
I looked up and stared in his eyes. He had a gentle smile. Kind. Loving.
“Therion…” I was stunned. He called me beautiful.
“Your face, it’s beautiful. Such full lips, such high cheeks, such a strong jaw and such dreamlike eyes.” His voice was like a melody. “Your body…I’ve seen you bathe, I’ve watched you. I couldn’t help it. Your body is at once lithe and sturdy. It looks so wonderful both in combat and at rest, and so many nights I’ve wanted to hold you in my arms. Your soul…your soul is the most beautiful of them all, so hurt but still so confident, so kind, generous, thoughtful…” He went back to a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”
I looked in his eyes and he looked in mine. Moments passed. It was unspoken but we knew. Both of us knew.
Therion leaned in and I closed my eyes. I felt the warmth of his beard nuzzle into my face and his plump lips press against mine. I slowly opened my mouth to accept his kiss. I couldn’t help but to whimper when I tasted his tongue, so tender and soft. I could feel his heart and soul in this kiss.
He removed his jacket and tossed it to the side. He lay me back on my bed and slid beside me, still kissing, wrapping his big arms around me. He held and kissed me, cradled me with his big hairy body, that big hairy body I saw at the spring. I pressed my body up against his, as close as it would go, breathing his breath in, legs intertwining, arms so tight around each other’s body.
Eventually our kiss broke. Therion rubbed his beard around my face. His lips found my forehead in a soft kiss, and we lay there. We both fell asleep that way.
--
I awoke just before sun up, first thinking I was a young man again. I was waking up in the arms of a man who paid me for the evening. For a moment, I peered around the room, looking for his coin purse, looking how I could sneak out with it, looking for my getaway. I glanced down at the big arms holding me and for a split second I looked to see how I could escape his tight grasp and slink out.
Then I saw the familiarity of the strong, hairy arms around me, saw how they were holding me gently and firmly. Then I felt his beard nuzzle closer into my neck, his sweet breath warming my sensitive skin. Then I felt him shift his big, broad body closer to me, bringing his heat in the cool morning sea breeze that was making the thin curtains dance in the opened window.
It was Therion. It wasn’t a dream. He was holding me, cradling me like I was something or someone who needed care, who needed to feel safe. I was safe. I was safe.
I slowly turned my body to face him. He laid with his head on the pillow, dreamy smile on his face. He slowly opened his eyes and found my gaze. “There’s my beautiful.”
I melted into the pillow. I nuzzled my face up against his beard and found his lips with mine. He kissed me softly, easily, and I returned it. It was a lazy kiss, lips parting, mouths opening, tongues slowly lapping at each other. It was a comfortable kiss that warmed my soul.
Therion’s hands started tracing my backbone, up and down. He started waking up and his kiss became more focused, more passionate, more needy. My hands instinctively went to his chest, running my fingers through the thick pelt on his chest. It was pleasantly fluffy and I wanted to feel it on my face.
I felt his big meaty paws slide down my back and cup the curve of my round, firm ass, squeezing and kneading. He pulled me in closer to him. I felt his mighty penis throbbing to a thick, stiff erection and mine was plumping up as well. I couldn’t help but to think, this is what I’ve dreamt about. This was what I so desperately wanted. He ground his big cock into mine and groaned as his rotated his hips.
Normally this is when I would go into performance mode. I would go down, lick his nipples, suck his balls and his cock for a good long while. If he wanted to finish in my mouth, I’d let him (and then discretely spit out the evidence) or if he wanted to fuck me, I’d let him. But with Therion it was more primal, the need was too great. I slid my leg up his thigh and split my cheeks open slightly to allow Therion’s thick fingers to start sliding in the cleft of my arse and finding the sweet puckered entrance to my hole. I needed him. I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted anyone.
His finger entered me and I threw my head back in a gasp. His bearded mouth immediately found my neck and continued kissing and licking my smooth skin. First one, then two, the more he slid his fingers in and out of my quivering arsehole, the more I wanted. I started involuntarily bucking backwards to meet his penetration. “Please…” I whispered urgently. “P-please Therion…”
I was ready and I could tell he was too. His hefty prick was drooling a steady stream of precum on my inner thigh and I knew it wanted to be inside me. I reached back, took his hand away, and scooted my body upward so I could get his penis under me and ready to fuck.
I thought I was ready. I knew he was thick, but I had taken thicker. His cock was perfect for me, though. Perfect girth, perfect curve. Did it have to go slow as he popped his flared out helmet in? Yes, I had to get accustomed to the stretch of my hole. Was it worth it when, as he sank in, I felt it push across that sweet nut on the inside? Absolutely. It sent shock waves through my body and I let out a whimper when it happened.
I would normally push the man over on his back, treating him to a sweet ride, doing all the work for his maximum pleasure, or at least that’s how I used to do it. Paying clientele, after all. But the look in Therion’s eyes, the urgent way he rolled me on my back, heaving his furred body onto mine, I could tell he was desperate to pump and pound.
And he did! It was slow at first, all the while staring into my eyes, monitoring for any discomfort. He must have been used to his lovers needing some time to get used to the fuck, but as he saw that I was only getting pleasure from his efforts, he started to go a little harder, a little deeper, a little faster. He let himself go a little more wild, a little more primal, a little more feral. He collapsed his sweaty body onto mine, my legs up and apart, allowing him to do what he needed to do, to make love to me and savor my body. His face dove into the nape of my neck. He chewed on my shoulder. He grunted and panted, reminiscent of an animal in the throes of breeding his mate.
Therion growled in my ear. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” “I’ve wanted you so badly.” “Now I have you.” “Gods, you feel so good.” “Never leave me.”
“You’re so beautiful, Adrik.” That one caught me off guard. “So, so beautiful.”
I was experiencing my mind shattering and bursting the entire time, it was all I could do to keep sane through all the beatitudes that Therion was spilling out of his mouth and the deep probing that his fat, hefty cock was giving my tender arsehole. His broad battering ram of a cockhead was thumping against my spot inside over and over and driving me to a body wrecking climax when I was finally able to form words right before I went over the edge.
“Therion, I—I love you.”
For a moment before my explosion, I saw Therion’s face, so mixed with ecstasy and bliss and relief and momentousness and right then, right then I heard it.
“Oh Adrik, I love you. I love you!” Then he had the audacity to cum moments before I did, invoking the name of his god. “Here I-- Oh my Lord Lathander!!”
Therion let out a bellow so deep and fierce that it could have been from a wild animal pierced by an arrow from a hunter. His head reared back and I feel his cock have hard, strong contractions in my beaten up insides. I felt his thick, gooey wads fire off inside me. It seemed as if it would never end. He must have unloaded a waterskin full of hot spunk inside me.
While my lover was mid-orgasm, it was my turn. My head involuntarily tensed and raised up off the bed and I let out a cry as, hands free, I let out ropes of milk-white sperm, gluing Therion’s belly hair to my skin. I shook, I shivered, I quivered, and Therion held me tight, breathing heavy, immobilized by his coming down from the heights of his pleasure.
When I could move again, it occurred to me that this is where I would usually feel shame at my ugly act, shame from taking a strange man’s cum inside me, shame in what I have done for a quick coin, and shame for what I was about to do, stealing the man’s purse while he took an after-fuck piss. But all I could feel is the reassuring weight of Therion’s body collapsed, half on me, half off, and his gentle pecks upon my cheek as he whispered “My gods, my gods…”
I turned my face to his and looked at his eyes, filled with exhaustion and bliss. I tilted my head inwards and I kissed him deep. I pulled back and I couldn’t help myself but to say something.
“I love you.”
His lips formed into a silly, happy grin. “I’ve been waiting so long to hear that from you.” His eyes started to well up. “I love you too. So, so much. You beautiful, beautiful man.”
I lay my head upon his chest. For the first time in my life, I felt beautiful.
--
We slept a few more hours, entangled in each other’s arms and legs, the afterglow of our lovemaking, then we got up. We washed each other tenderly, using the wash basin provided in the room, and dressed, stealing kisses from each other all the while. It was when we had put on our boots and exited the boarding house did we finally start talking in earnest.
“I’m prepared to leave this city if you want, Adrik.” Therion earnestly stated. “I understand if you’re worried about what happened.”
I shook my head. “Honestly, I remember how Wark was and if he’s still the same, that will leave him with his tail between his legs for quite some time. Anyway, stay or leave, I should probably track Gathin down and make sure he’s okay.”
“That might be a good idea.” Therion nodded. “Okay then, after that. Should we stay? Should we hit the road? Move on to another city? Track down a cave? Hunt an owlbear? Take down an evil wizard?” I rose an eyebrow at his increasingly outlandish ideas. He simply gave me one of his signature wide, goofy grins. “Slay a dragon?”
That got a slight chuckle from me, as I walked so close to him that I gave him a slight bump with my body. “I dunno, to be honest. I do know that we need to work hard, whatever we do. As you say, Therion. ‘We’re trash, Adrik, but someday we’ll be treasure!’ “
I felt Therion’s hand reach out to mine and grasp it lightly, lovingly. “Adrik, I believe you already are. You’re my treasure. I love you.”
I looked at him and saw the sincere smile he gave me. He was so beautiful.
Forging - Another Romantically Smutty Little Story From Me
Yet again I'm in Faerun. I hope you like this...
I remembered him. Out of all the adventurers who sought me out, sought my craftsmanship, my wares…I remembered him.
I guess I had a reputation that I had established since settling outside this small village nearly a decade ago, a reputation that brought a steady stream of brave souls who wanted the best armor, the best swords, the finest they could find in a fortnight’s journey. Adventurers would come from all across Faerun, looking for my wares to give them an edge against whatever challenge was awaiting them. They came as a constant stream, every few days. Many came more than once. Their faces were a blur.
But not his. I remembered him. And here he was in the dead of night, unconscious and dying on my doorstep.
--
I scooped his big, hulking body up into my arms, a task that I wasn't prepared for but one that lifting crates of metals and minerals and bringing them into my forge helped with. I brought him out of the chilled rain that was permeating the evening air into my humble dwelling and laid him by the fire on a pile of furs that was warming. I propped his head up and checked for signs of life. He was breathing, labored but it was there, and firmly unconscious.
I opened his overcoat and gently took his deeply dented chestplate off. I couldn't help but to momentarily study the plate and shook my head. It wasn't one of mine and I could tell it was made shoddily. The fire wasn't hot enough to fully strengthen the alloy when it was formed, and the smith wasn't patient with his strikes. He was probably mass producing this plate, and probably overcharging for it too.
As I unfastened his belt to check for injuries to his abdomen, something caught my eye. It was a small sheath, carefully worked into the leather, almost invisible unless you knew to look for it. My breath caught as I recognized the hilt of the dagger tucked inside. I had made it, had given it to him two seasons ago when he last visited. He had been examining the longsword he was purchasing, but his eyes kept drifting to this small blade I'd been working on between larger commissions. I watched him run his finger along the intricate pattern I'd worked into the steel, saw something in his eyes that made my heart skip.
"Take it," I had said, the words coming out before I could stop them. When he tried to pay, I waved him off. "Consider it a token of gratitude for the fascinating conversation about weapon craft." He had smiled then, that radiant smile that had haunted my dreams since.
And here it was, still at his side. Not sold off or traded away, but kept close, worn in a custom sheath. My fingers brushed the familiar metalwork before returning to my task. But there would be time for memories later. Turning my attention back to the man, I saw his undershirt was spotted with blood. I slid it up, and saw deep bruises and scrapes underneath the layer of chest hair coating his torso. Nothing pierced or slashed the skin open, but he probably had several broken ribs and from the caked blood in his beard, he was spitting up blood. I balled one of the skins up and scooted it behind his head and went to my chest…I didn’t have much time, and hoped I had—ah, I only had one healing potion left but it would at least stabilize him and help him start to mend. I rushed back to his side, uncorked the small bottle and poured the viscous liquid in the warrior’s mouth, hoping he wouldn’t cough it up. It seemed to pour down his throat enough that I heard a swallow.
Suddenly the inured man coughed up more blood and I wiped it away with the sleeve of my shirt. He tried to say something but I wouldn’t let him. “Shhh. Calm. You’re safe. One more swallow of this and then you can rest more.” He drank the rest of the potion and his head dropped back down onto the furs.
I went and drew some hot water from the kitchen fire’s kettle and a clean rag to clean the man’s face and beard with. Kneeling, I studied his face. Yes, I remembered him, of course I did. I didn’t know his name but a face like his… The last time I saw him was in the spring, two seasons ago. He ultimately bought one of my more simple longsword designs but was fascinated by a greatsword that I just finished. I remember having a fairly meaty conversation about the pros and cons of each type of weapon, even going into warhammers and mauls, though he’d have to find a good dwarf to truly get a quality warhammer. Humans like me could never touch their craftmanship with that kind of weapon.
I actually thought of him occasionally. I would find my mind lingering on his face, ruggedly handsome. His thick, well groomed beard was blonde with gentle streaks of amber, much like his long hair, tied back…I thought of how his beard would look against my dark hair and beard. I would think about his body, broad shouldered like mine, differently built but just as bulky, as our professions groomed us to be. I didn’t know his name but I craved hearing the rich masculine timbre of his voice say mine, whispering it in my ear. I would think about that gleaming smile of his and his arms wrapping around me and his girthy thighs intermingling with mine and…
I suppose those thoughts didn’t have a place right now, with the object of my daydreams in front of my fire a breath from the grave. I used the cloth to wipe the blood from his face the best I could, then let him alone. And then I blew out the candles, threw a couple more logs on the fire to keep my home warm through the night, then went to bed myself, hoping my guest would rest well and heal as much as he could.
--
I was stirring porridge by the fire when I heard him groan. I looked back at him, still laying on the furs, his eyes starting to open.
“Where—” his deep voice cracked with exhaustion, dehydration, and ache.
“You’re safe.” I left the porridge to cook a little more while I filled a cup with clean water and brought it to him. “Here, drink.” I held the cup up to his lips and he slowly swallowed the cool liquid.
“But where am I?” His eyes turned upward and met mine. They softened. “I know you.”
“You do,” I acknowledged. “You have come here many times. We are in Elmwood, off the coast of the Moonsea.” I stood leaving the cup on the stone floor by him. “Are you hungry? You should probably eat a little something. You need strength to heal.”
“I remember I was coming back to this side of the Galena Mountains, through Bloodstone Pass,” He tried to lift up on his elbows, only half succeeding. “We stumbled upon an ogre’s cave. It was on a cliff.” He paused to catch his breath. “We were trying to sneak by. We just needed to get on the other side to start the descent down.” Another pause. “My two companions didn’t make it. But I kept fighting the ogre. I was trying to best him and almost did but he rushed at me. I was on the cliff’s edge…”
It occurred to me that he was just across the Moonsea from here. I was still in disbelief. “You fell off a cliff?” I nearly raised my voice. I didn’t. “And you survived?”
“I remember hitting the sloping face of the cliff several times,” he gazed at the fire and rolled to take another sip of water. “That must have broke my fall somewhat.”
“It also broke your body.” I kept my voice low. It seemed appropriate. “I’m surprised you survived.”
“I remember finally landing by a river. I remember thinking about my God, the Lord of Light.” The follower of Lathander continued. “I remember feeling myself fade away. I remember feeling sadness, then cold, chilling cold. Then…then I remember feeling a warmth.” His face turned to me. “I remember thinking about you and feeling that warmth. An enveloping warmth that radiated throughout my body.”
“Me?” I uttered at a near whisper.
There was a pause. It was heavy.
“The next thing I can remember is you pouring that potion into my mouth.” I saw him move his legs under the furs on top of him. “My legs aren’t broken. They’re sore. My arms are fine.” He moved his torso and winced. “I probably have some cracked ribs still but I can move. If I can get back out on the road by this aftern--” He started to get up, gritting his teeth in the process.
I rushed to his side, putting my arm under his body, easing him back down on the pile of furs. “No, you will stay and recover and rest.” I gently laid him down and went to fetch two bowls. “You will be my guest.” I looked about. “I have no inn accommodations but I will keep you warm and dry and fed.” I poured some of the porridge into one of the bowls and brought it over to my guest. “Here, let it cool some.” I set the bowl down next to his cup of water. “It’s sweet. I cooked it with honeycomb and spice.” I went to pour myself a bowl.
He let the bowl sit for a few moments, then brought it up to his full lips, chapped from dehydration and injury.
“It’s good.” He nodded while he lifted the bowl again.
I nodded back.
We sat in silence and ate our meal, swallowing the warming meal slowly and alternating staring at the fire and sneaking looks at each other.
“What’s your name?” His question took me by surprise but I realized in all our dealings, we hadn’t ever properly introduced ourselves to each other.
“Matias.” I stated plainly. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Thank you, Matias.” He stared into the fire. “I’m Galen.”
He had a name. This beautiful, broken man had a name. Galen. Why did my heart skip a beat just then?
--
Galen slept more after breakfast and I went about my daily routine. The rain had broke midmorn and I decided that it would be the best chance I had for chopping wood. I had kept my supply of wood and coal in a big shed behind my home. My forge house had been set nearby, where I did my work and kept my wares, and it was easy for me to bring more fuel to both my home and the forge as needed. I went about using my axe and splitting as many logs as I could muster. I went about using my axe and splitting as many logs as I could muster. It was midday when I saw Galen watching me, sitting in a chair I had outside of my backdoor underneath an overhang where I kept a few preserving barrels and a more immediate supply of wood for my hearth.
My rhythm faltered for just a moment. I had done this countless times before, the smooth arc of the axe as natural as breathing, but now… now I felt every movement of my body with an acute awareness. The flex of my arms as I lifted the axe, the twist of my torso with each swing, the way my shirt clung to my back in the humid air. I tried to focus on the task, on the satisfying crack of wood splitting, but I could feel his eyes on me like a physical touch.
I slammed my axe down into a stump and wiped my brow, walking over to him. "You shouldn't be up."
"I needed to get up." He downplayed my concern. The grimace of pain wasn't convincing.
"Could you?"
"I needed to." He looked me square in the eye. "Doesn't matter if I could."
I nodded. I stared at him. Even broken, he was…proud. You could tell it in his face. But there was something else there too, something in the way his eyes lingered on the sweat beading on my collarbone, in the slight flush that colored his cheeks that couldn't entirely be blamed on the effort of getting outside.
He looked at the rolling hills behind my homestead, at the forest in the far view.
I couldn't help but to stare at him for a few moments. The morning light caught in his beard, turning the amber streaks to gold. I had dreamed of that beard, of how it might feel against my skin. I pushed the thought away.
I went back to chopping wood.
I would occasionally look back. Galen was still watching me. I couldn't see his face; it was too far away. But he watched me for a long time. Each time I glanced over my shoulder, I found him still there, still focused entirely on me. The weight of his gaze made my skin burn hotter than the forge’s flame. I wondered what he was thinking, what he saw when he looked at me. Was he simply passing time, or was there something more…?
Maybe I was letting my mind wander in a place it shouldn’t.
I walked back to the house and saw him weakly smile at me as I approached.
“Do you want to go back inside?” I asked.
He slowly nodded.
“Do you need help?”
He paused, but again slowly nodded.
I put my arms out and gently lifted him up by his underarms. While positioning his arm around my shoulder to walk him back in, his face ended up in the nape of my neck. His breath caught slightly…whether from pain or something else, I couldn't tell. But then he leaned in, just slightly, his beard brushing against my skin as he inhaled deeply. The warmth of his exhale sent a shiver down my spine that I tried desperately to hide.
"You smell like woodsmoke," he murmured, his voice rough but tender. "And steel. And something else I can't quite place."
I nearly stumbled at his words, at the intimacy of the moment. Here was this proud warrior, allowing himself to be vulnerable with me, trusting me with his weakness. His fingers gripped my shoulder tighter as we made our way inside, and I found myself walking slower than necessary, savoring each step.
"Pine sap, maybe," I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper. "From the logs. Or the quenching oil."
He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against my neck. As I lowered him back onto the furs, our eyes met for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. His hand lingered on my arm, and I could feel the calluses on his palm. They were a warrior's hands, different but much like my own.
"Thank you, Matias," he said softly, my name on his lips making my heart race. "For everything."
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing evening out into sleep. Even in rest, his face held a gentle smile that I'd never seen before, not in any of his previous visits to my forge.
I came back to my senses quickly. I went to clean myself and began preparing food for the evening.
--
I ladled the thick stew into two wooden bowls, venison with root vegetables and herbs from my garden. Galen had managed to sit up more fully now, though I could see the effort it took in the tightness around his eyes. I handed him his bowl and settled nearby with my own.
"You know," he said after a few quiet spoonfuls, "We weren’t actually planning to cross through Bloodstone Pass."
I looked up, surprised by the admission.
"The safer route would have been following the coast around," he continued, stirring his stew. "Would have taken longer, but…" He trailed off, his eyes fixed on the fire.
"Then why did you?" I asked softly.
He was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. "I was in Heliogabalus, taking on contracts," he finally said. "I heard traders talking about how the pass had cleared early this year. I knew if I took it…" His hand moved to where the dagger rested at his hip. "I could be here in a fortnight instead of spending two months following the coast." A faint flush colored his cheeks. "I told myself I needed to restock my equipment, that your craftsmanship was worth the risk of the mountain path. But…"
He met my eyes then, and there was something raw in his gaze. "Truth is, I couldn't wait two months. Not when every piece of steel I touched reminded me of that conversation we had. Not when I found myself wondering if you'd…" He stopped, swallowed hard. "If you'd thought about that day as much as I had."
He was quiet for so long I wondered if he might not complete his thought. "I kept thinking about that conversation we had. About weapons, about craft." His fingers absently touched where I knew the dagger rested against his hip. "About how you said a blade needs to be balanced just right, needs to feel like an extension of yourself." He met my eyes then. "That’s how I learned to fight; you have to treat your weapon as your own arm. And you understand that. I've never met anyone who understood it quite like I do. It shows in your work." He slowly spooned some of the stew into his mouth, chewed the softened potato that he had took in and swallowed. “The passion…it shows.”
His eyes met mine and the intensity of his gaze made my heart hammer against my ribs. I found myself sharing things I rarely spoke of. "That's why I left Baldur's Gate," I said. "Everyone there wanted weapons fast and cheap. They didn't care about the soul of the steel."
"The soul of the steel?" His voice held no mockery, only genuine interest.
"My master taught me that every piece of metal has a story to tell, if you listen closely enough." I set my bowl down, remembering. "In the city, they wanted me to rush. To make pretty things that looked impressive but had no heart. Everyone wanted me to be something I wasn't. It all felt… wrong."
"And here?" Galen asked.
"Here I can hear the metal sing." I gestured to my forge outside. I paused, considering how much to share. The warmth of the fire, the intimacy of the moment, made me want to tell him everything. "You know, I wasn't always on my own like this. I studied under Master Clyne in Baldur's Gate for nearly fifteen years. Started when I was just a scrawny teen who could barely lift a shovel of slag."
A small smile played at Galen's lips. "Scrawny? You?"
I chuckled softly. "Hard to imagine, I know. The forge changed that. Fifteen years of hammering steel will do that to you." I absently rubbed my callused hands together. "Master Clyne… he was the best. Taught me everything…how to layer steel just right for armor that's strong but light, how to forge a blade sharp enough to behead an owlbear."
"Like that greatsword I was admiring last spring," Galen said.
"Yes, exactly." I stared into my bowl for a moment. "But the city… it wore on me. Everyone wanted everything fast and cheap. And the taverns…" I trailed off, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.
"The taverns?" Galen prompted gently.
"The serving girls there… they were relentless." I saw understanding dawn in his eyes. "Always trying to sit in my lap, touching my arms, playing with my hair. 'Matias,'" I mimicked their high-pitched voices, "'you need a good woman to take care of you!'" I shook my head. "I never had the heart to tell them I wasn't the least bit interested."
Something shifted in Galen's expression…recognition, perhaps? Understanding? He stayed quiet, letting me continue.
"So I left. Found this place when they were rebuilding after the Devastation Orb incident. Started simple, things like farm equipment, horseshoes. But then adventurers started coming, and word spread…" I met his eyes. "And then one day, this warrior walks in, wanting to discuss the merits of longswords versus greatswords, and suddenly I'm having the most fascinating conversation I've had in years."
Galen's breath caught slightly. "I remember that day," he said softly. "I remember thinking I'd never met a craftsman who understood weapons the way you do. Who saw them as more than just tools."
"They're not just tools," I agreed. "Each piece has its own soul, its own story. Master Clyne taught me that. It's why I left the city. I needed space to listen to the metal, to give each piece the attention it deserves."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling between us. Our bowls sat empty, but neither of us moved to clear them away. The moment felt too precious to break.
Finally, Galen shifted, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position on the furs. "I should let you rest," I said, rising to take our bowls. "It's been a long day."
"Matias," he called softly as I turned away. I looked back at him, and in the firelight, his eyes held something warm, something unspoken. He opened his mouth, about to say something, then paused. Finally, he said, “I’m glad I’m here. Good night."
I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "Rest well, Galen."
As I prepared for bed that night, I could still feel the weight of his gaze, still hear the way he'd said my name. And I thought of that as I added another log to the fire and listened to his steady breathing in the flame touched darkness.
--
"There's a hot spring not far from here," I said the next morning, noticing how Galen winced with every movement. "The warm water might help with the healing. And…" I gestured to the dried blood still matting his hair, the dirt from his fall still ground into his skin. "It might do you good to really clean up."
He nodded gratefully. The walk was slow, Galen leaning on my arm more than I think he wanted to admit. The spring lay in a small clearing, steam rising from its surface in the cool morning air. I'd built a small shelter over it years ago, protecting it from the worst of the elements.
"You can lean on me," I offered as we approached the water's edge. I helped him undress, trying to be clinical about it, but my breath caught as I saw the full extent of his injuries in the morning light. The bruising painted his torso in violent shades of purple and yellow.
Galen caught my expression. "It looks worse than it feels," he said, but his attempt at a reassuring smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
I helped him into the water, supporting his weight as he eased down onto one of the submerged stone ledges I'd placed years ago. His sharp intake of breath slowly turned into a relieved sigh as the warm water enveloped him.
"Let me help you with your hair," I said, beginning to remove my own clothes. I tried to be casual about it, though my heart was hammering in my chest. I'd bathed with others before. It wasn't uncommon in the city bathhouses…but this felt different, more intimate. I slipped into the warm water, keeping a respectful distance as I reached for the soap and cloths I'd brought.
The spring wasn't large, just big enough for perhaps three people to sit comfortably. Steam rose around us as I moved closer to work the soap through his long blonde hair, carefully avoiding the tender spot where he'd hit his head. I was acutely aware of our bare skin, of how the water lapped gently between us with each movement. He began to speak, his voice quiet in the intimate space.
"I had a partner once," he said, the words almost lost in the sound of water dripping from my hands. "Another warrior. We traveled together for years." He leaned back slightly into my touch, and I had to suppress a shiver at the contact. "His name was Theron."
I kept my movements gentle, steady, trying to focus on the task rather than the way the morning light played across the muscles of his shoulders, or how his skin felt under my fingers. I gave him space to continue his story.
"We met in the Dalelands, both of us young and eager to prove ourselves. He was… he understood me. In ways no one else had." Galen's voice caught slightly. "We fought together, lived together, shared everything for five years."
"What happened?" I asked softly, though I feared I knew the answer.
"Wyverns. In the Galena Mountains, ironically enough." His laugh was bitter. "We were escorting a merchant caravan. The poison… I couldn't…" He stopped, took a shaky breath. "After that, I couldn't bear to travel with anyone permanently. These last companions were just… convenient allies for the journey. I barely knew their names."
I rinsed his hair carefully, letting the water carry away both dirt and painful memories. "Is that why you prefer to work alone now?"
"Partly." He was quiet for a long moment as I began cleaning the dirt from his shoulders, mindful of his bruises. "But it's more than that. After Theron… I realized how rare it is to find someone who truly understands you. Someone who sees you as you are, not as what they want you to be."
His words hung in the steam between us. I thought of the tavern girls in Baldur's Gate, of expectations and appearances, of hiding who you really are.
"Your hands are shaking," Galen said softly. I hadn't noticed, but he was right.
I took a steadying breath. "Let me check your bandages. The water should have loosened them."
As I began unwinding the damp bandages, Galen continued, his voice low and intimate in the steam-filled air. "You know what's strange? When I was falling from that cliff, thinking I was going to die…" He winced as I peeled away a bandage stuck to his skin. "I wasn't thinking about Theron. I was thinking about that day in your forge. About the way you talked about steel having a soul."
My hands stilled on his skin. "Galen…"
"And then I woke up here." He turned slightly, meeting my eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if Lathander guided me. The Lord of Light works in mysterious ways."
As if summoned by his words, Galen closed his eyes and murmured something under his breath, a prayer in a language I didn't understand. A faint golden glow emanated from his hands where they rested on the water's surface, and I watched in amazement as some of the angry purple bruising across his ribs faded to a softer yellow-green.
The morning sun filtering through the shelter's slats caught in his damp hair, turning it to gold. Water droplets clung to his beard, and I found myself fighting the urge to brush them away. The warm water made me feel both relaxed and hyperaware of every point where our bodies nearly touched. I reached for the fresh bandages I'd brought, trying to keep my breathing steady.
"These wounds are healing well," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "The potion did its work."
"You did your work," he corrected softly. "Both then and now. Lathander's blessing works better when there's already care and healing present."
My fingers trembled slightly as I wrapped the clean bandage around his ribs. We were close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, smell the soap in his hair mingling with his natural scent. The intimacy of the moment felt almost overwhelming. I was grateful for the clouded water and steam that provided some modesty, though my body's reaction to his proximity made me nervous.
I thought I saw him slightly lean in to my touch. Did his face lean in closer to mine?
"I should give you some privacy," I said, securing the last bandage. "Will you be alright on your own?"
"I think I can manage," he said, but there was something in his voice. Disappointment? Resignation? "Though…would you mind staying in here? Just in case?"
I nodded, moving to the opposite side of the spring. "Of course. Take your time."
As I sat there, watching the steam rise between us, listening to the gentle sounds of water and Galen's movements, I thought about what he'd said about understanding, about being seen. And I wondered if perhaps we'd both been searching for the same thing all along.
--
The sun had set hours ago. I'd stoked the fire one last time for the night, watching as Galen tested his healing body, slowly stretching his arms above his head. The bandages I'd wrapped that morning were still secure, but he moved with much more ease now.
"The spring helped," he said, catching me watching him. He lowered his arms, turning to face me. "Your care helped more."
I couldn't look away from his eyes, warm and intense in the firelight. The way he was looking at me… it was the same way he'd looked at me in the spring, but now there was something more. Something certain.
"Matias," he said softly, taking a step toward me. "When I was in Heliogabalus, taking those contracts… every night I dreamed of your forge. Of the way your hands touched the steel you were displaying for me. Of your voice when you spoke about the soul in the metal."
My heart thundered in my chest as he took another step closer. In his beard, I could see the flecks of bronzed light reflecting from the fire, smell the soap from the spring still clinging to his skin. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage.
"When you first came to my forge," I said, my voice rough with emotion, "I couldn't focus on my work for days after. The way you understood the steel, the way you handled each blade with respect…" I swallowed hard. "I found myself hoping you'd return, making up reasons why you might need new equipment." I couldn’t speak above a whisper. “Why have I thought about you this entire time? Why have you never left me?”
Galen's breath caught, but I continued, the words spilling out now that I'd started. "And these past few days, tending to you, being near you… I've thought about every moment we shared in the spring. About how right it felt to have you here, in my home, by my fire." I took a tentative step forward, close enough now to feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I think I've been dreaming of this moment since the day you first walked through my door."
His eyes darkened, and I watched as his hand lifted, hesitating just inches from my face. "Please. Tell me," he whispered, "tell me I'm not misreading this."
His broad chest pressed up against mine. I felt his thick erection, restrained by thin cloth that girded his loin, brush against mine, which threatened to rip out of my own breeches. His fingers tightened in my hair as our kisses grew more heated. Each press of his lips, each brush of his tongue against mine, felt like stoking a fire that had been banked for far too long.
"Your ribs," I managed to gasp between kisses, even as my hands slid up his back, feeling the strong muscles there. "I don't want to hurt you…"
"You won't," he breathed against my mouth. "You're too careful with precious things."
That undid me completely. I pulled back just enough to look at him, to really look at him in the firelight. His hair was mussed where I'd run my fingers through it, his lips were reddened from our kisses, and his eyes… his eyes held such warmth, such trust.
"Come to bed," I whispered, the words both a question and a plea.
He answered by taking my hand, interlacing our fingers. I led him to my bedroom, our steps slow, deliberate. Every few steps we'd stop, unable to resist pulling each other close for another kiss, another touch.
When we reached my bed, Galen drew me down beside him on the furs. His hands were gentle as they explored my shoulders, my chest, as if he was learning me by touch. I was just as careful with him, mindful of his healing body but unable to stop myself from touching, from tasting.
"I've dreamed of this," he murmured against my throat. "Of your hands on me…"
I answered by trailing my fingers down his chest, relishing in his soft downy hair covering it, learning the feel of him, the way his breath hitched when I touched sensitive spots. His skin was warm under my palms, and I could feel his heart racing to match my own. When my hand brushed the edge of his bandages, he caught it in his, bringing it to his lips.
"I want you," he whispered against my fingers. "All of you."
We took our time undressing each other, each newly revealed expanse of skin explored with reverent touches and gentle kisses. When he was finally bare before me, I couldn't help but marvel at him, at how the firelight played across his body, his beautiful bounty of fur, at how his eyes darkened with desire as he looked at me.
"You're beautiful," I breathed, and he pulled me down on top of him for a deep kiss that left us both gasping.
His hands roamed my chest, dragging through my chest hair, fingertips finding my pert nipples, strumming and flicking, My head threw back in pleasure as I ground my penis into his, already starting to drip his honey and coat both of our members.
We moved together like we'd done this a thousand times before, like our bodies knew each other's rhythms instinctively. His fingers dug into my shoulders, his beard rough against my neck as he pressed closer. I whispered his name over and over, like a mantra, like a blessing.
The way I slid my body down his, planting kisses down his abdomen, across his bandages, down to nuzzle into his pubic mound, my beard meeting his cockfur, savoring the taste as my tongue dragged along the length of his veiny shaft. I took his bulbous head into my mouth, digging my tongue into his foreskin and swirling it around. I used my lips to milk more precum onto my tongue, greedy, wanting more and more with every whimper I invoked from my lover’s lips.
I pushed his legs back and saw the split of his ass was hairy too. My delight was evident in my actions as I dove in, spreading, licking, tasting his most private of parts. Still fresh from the bath this morning, I lapped at his quivering hole as he squirmed onto my bearded face, silently begging for more and more.
After an eternity of my warrior writhing on my tongue, gasping and pulling fistfuls of my hair, he was finally able to speak one word.
“Please…”
I could not deny him.
I rose up and found the bedside bottle of oil I used for lonely nights. Coating my cock well, I smeared the excess on his hairy, twiching hole. Using my hips to spread his legs, I kept his gaze as I thumbed my hood back and pushed my fat cock into him.
Slow. Steady. Easy. I entered him. I slid in, gentle as I could, until I was completely inside. We were one. I lowered my body on top of Galen and languidly intertwined my tongue with his.
A tender, slow, methodical rhythm developed. In. Out. In. Out. Not speeding up. Not rushing. Partly because I did not want to hurt Galen, but also because I wanted this to last. I wanted to be inside him all night. I wanted to make love to him just as I wanted to make love to him the first time I saw him, the first time I showed him my work, the first time I showed him my passion. I was showing him my true passion now.
I used the blunt of my fuck to make sure I hit his inside button every stroke. It seemed his was extra sensitive, because with every stroke, his heavy member flung sticky wads of dick honey across both our bellies. The whole scene, his wet cock jumping, his chest heaving, the bliss painted on his face…it was a sight to behold. It was a scene I never wanted to end. I knew, I just knew, that I would never forget this moment.
When we reached our peak, it was together. He started first, his moans becoming louder, nearing cries. His eyes going from slammed shut to wide open, to rolling in the back of his head, all within the matter of moments. With a sharp inhale and a small whimper, his cock pulsed and spasmed, flinging ropes of hot, thick jism haphazardly all over us, hitting his beard, my chest, our stomachs, finally twiching and jerking, letting the remainder pool on his abdomen. That’s all it took for me to go. I fell to my elbows, hovering above his breathless body. I heard myself let a deep, gutteral sigh out and went over the edge. I felt as if my souls were emptying out inside Galen’s hot, grasping tunnel. I felt each strong contraction pump out more and more of my seed, marking my lover, making him mine, making me his, bonding us for the first time, but not the last. I stayed in that position until my cock slipped out, and I fell to the side. We lay, clutching each other tight, in the afterglow, tangled in the furs, our breathing slowly evening out, neither willing to let go.
"Stay," I whispered again into his hair, and felt him smile against my chest.
"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," he murmured, pressing a kiss over my heart.
We fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms, the fire burning low beside us. And for the first time in years, I felt completely, utterly at home.
--
The sound of hoofbeats made me look up from my forge. I knew those particular beats - the way his horse always seemed to canter just a bit faster as they approached home. Home. The word still brought a smile to my face, even after all these months.
I set down my hammer just as Galen dismounted in the yard. He was dusty from the road, his armor bearing new scratches that I'd no doubt be tending to later, but his eyes lit up the moment they found mine.
"Lover.” His voice was so tender whenever he saw me for the first time after a quest. "I brought you something," he said by way of greeting, already reaching into his saddlebag. He pulled out what looked like a few dragon's scales, each nearly as big as my palm, with an iridescent sheen that caught the sunlight. "From the white dragon we faced in the Spine. I thought you might be able to work them into something beautiful."
"I already have something beautiful to work with," I said, pulling him close despite the road dust. His laugh rumbled against my chest as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I missed you," he murmured into my neck. "Even knowing you were here, waiting… these weeks felt like years."
I breathed him in, leather and sweat and that indefinable something that was purely Galen. "I have some new pieces to show you," I said, nodding toward the forge. "Made them with you in mind. The greatsword especially…"
"Later," he said, his fingers threading through my hair. "Right now, the only masterwork I'm interested in is right here in my arms."
"Your companions?" I started, though I was already melting into his touch.
"…Are settling in at the inn for a few days' rest," he finished. "They know where to find me if they need me. Though they better not need me until at least tomorrow."
I smiled against his lips. "Welcome home, my love."
"Home," he agreed, kissing me deeply. When we parted, he pressed his forehead to mine. "You know, I used to think being a wandering warrior was my calling. But now I understand…every path I took, every road I traveled, was just leading me here. To you." His fingers traced my jaw gently. "Lathander knew what he was doing that night, guiding me to your door. I was barely conscious, but I remember feeling his light, warm like your forge fire. It led me to you."
"To us," I corrected softly, and led him inside, to our bed, to our life together.
The dragon scales could wait. The forge could wait. The world itself could wait. Right now, all that mattered was that Galen was home, and I was complete.
Trash and Treasure: Another Romantically Smutty Little Story by me
so, I'm back after years at this point. Been trying to get back into writing and I started with this. I've been really inspired by the world of Faerun lately (thanks Baldur's Gate 3!) and I wrote this about two damaged, damaged souls. It's a bit of a long one but definitely spicy! Please let me know your opinion. I hope you like it!
PS: I'm looking for other sites and venues to post stuff like this. If y'all have any ideas, please let me know!
I stared into the fire at our camp. It had been dark for a couple of hours but yet neither one of us was tired. I fiddled with the long braid coming from my right temple, the silver beads shining in the fire’s glow. I loved these beads. The old woman who sold them to me in Neverwinter said they would contrast with the chestnut tones in my dark hair, and would bring out the jade tones in my green eyes. The old woman said that my eyes were beautiful. Of course she was flattering me so that I would buy them but she was right, they did flatter me. I loved putting them in my hair. They made me feel beautiful, and ever since I was a boy, I always wanted to be one of the beautiful ones. I never was.
I started putting balm on the points of my ears. They weren’t as pointed as a full-blooded elf but they were pointed enough that they would get dry. I hated them. I wish I would look more human, or more elf, not the half breed I was. My face wasn’t as narrow as an elf, but my jaw wasn’t as square as a human man would be. I only had slightly angular features, and my body was almost as stocky and broad shouldered as a human was, but not quite. I didn’t look right. Some said they liked the way I looked but I knew they were just being nice.
Therion was laying on his bedroll, head propped on his pack and was staring at the stars. Much like the dancing flames of the fire were illuminating the beads in my hair, they cast a gentle glow on his profile. His nose contrasted strongly against his deep-set dark eyes. The shadows played on his tanned face, then blended seamlessly into his thick beard. Likewise did they blend into his chest, his body hair peeking from his half open shirt. That’s one thing that I always admired about full blooded human men: the ability to be absolutely covered in soft, downy fur. As a half-elf, I was able to grow some, just a little trail down my torso, but it wasn’t like he had.
He was so handsome, so big and tall and broad-shouldered, of a hearty stock compared to my more lithe frame. He was one of the beautiful ones. I had thought so since the day I met him two years ago.
--
I had started adventuring out of necessity. I got tired of working for scraps. I didn’t have a good upbringing; my mother died when I was very young, and my father gave me up, his elvish blood calling him to the wild and not desiring to be tied down rearing a child. As such, when I was twelve, the orphanage seemed to have no further use to me, the ugly half elf child they always hated to take care of anyway, and I started scraping by on the streets of Luskan, a port city rife with pirates and smugglers. At times I was an errand boy, a storeroom sweeper, and when I was older a pickpocket, a prostitute, and a thief...I did what I needed to survive. But Therion didn’t care about any of that. He called me a good person. We first met when I was trying to defend a family from a pack of goblins trying to rob them. I couldn’t let those poor kids be hurt. I couldn’t let that hobbled man and his wife be robbed blind. I couldn’t let those kids be scared, scared like I was when I was a kid. Therion happened upon us just in time to take care of the final one in the band. He helped clean up the family’s overturned cart and patted me on the back, saying that it was good to know that there were good adventurers still out there. I smiled, even though I wasn’t that good. We joined up with the others shortly after but we always felt like kindred spirits in that way. He had been raised as an orphan too, only he was given to the Waterdeep city guard when his Uncle saw no further use for him. “I was kicked out when I had the audacity to have a moral compass,” He would say. Now that he was out, he decided to find his fortune on the road.
“Adrik, we’re both trash in this world,” He would tell me. “But someday, we’ll be treasure.”
The thought always made me smile.
The first time we had a major fight and I saw him in combat...that’s when I knew. He wasn’t some ordinary merc slasher flunky. This party had really lucked out finding him. Back then, it was me, and him, and Syndra and Rania, twin elven sisters who were clerics of Corellon Larethian. Vuldred was there, his spellbook always handy to have in a fight. That was before we picked up Torrus the dwarf, but he would come shortly after, another strong arm with his warhammer. And of course, there was me. I was handy with a hand crossbow and I had my daggers. I remember holding my own in it but that first fight...Therion was magnificent. We had come across a kobold nest, a huge one, and there were dozens of them. It seemed an endless fight. I had both daggers painted with blood and they still kept coming. But that didn’t stop me from being in awe of Therion. He nearly glowed like a paladin with holy energy when he swung his sword, cleaving two at a time. Sweat glistened across his brow as he shoved and plowed through the throngs of attackers, all clawing and tearing and jabbering their strange language. But he didn’t falter. With every swing of his shining sword, he commanded presence. He was passion. He was power. He was force personified. He was regal. He was majestic. He was a god among the material world. He was beautiful.
And now he was laying across the fire from me.
--
I was surprised when he said that he wanted to come with me. The group was in between quests. Therion had always had a soft spot for helping the kind, the poor, the downtrodden and we had just got done retrieving a family amulet for a very nice older farmer and his wife in Turmish. It was all they had owned, all that they had left of their legacy and it had been stolen. They couldn’t pay much, but Therion convinced the group that we could run into some good loot when the pursuit of the thieves had led to an old temple of a long forgotten god that they were using as a hideout. It had yielded some pretty good items out of it, and surprisingly lots of gold. I made sure to sneak a good amount of my gold to the old couple, to help them stave off the impending poverty of their failing farm. It made me feel good, and there was plenty left over for my own pocket. Despite the riches, it was indeed rough fighting all the undead in the temple so we all decided to take some time off, enjoy the spring, enjoy our heavy purses for once, and reconvene in Baldur’s Gate by Midsummer. Adventuring could be lucrative but taxing, as one can imagine. Time off helped recharge one’s courage and mental fortitude. The twins were going back to their Order and would be resting there. Vuldred would head to Baldur’s Gate straightway, as he had business in the city. Torrus would be doing some trading in Amn before heading to the Sword Coast.
And I? I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Maybe head back to Cormyr where I had spent a short time before I found our band, though nothing of interest remained for me there. Hell, I might as well go down to Ormpur and work a little there again, though the work there that I’d find most easily might not be the kind I’d want to get back into. It was definitely not work I’d want to expose Therion to. There was always the fields though...Mainly I just wanted to wander somewhere without the major fear of something actively working towards my demise. I had too many evil lords, wizards, and ghouls after me in the recent past. I needed to put my mind at ease. Wandering, traveling, it did that, and I was shocked when Therion asked if he could tag along. He was of a similar mindset as I...nothing to go back to, no home base anymore. Just life on the open road. Live by the sword and d—well, maybe not die by the sword just yet. I hope not.
I broke the silence of the campfire. “I was thinking of maybe heading down to Ormpur. Maybe getting some work down there. I know we don’t need to work right now but...” I kept my gaze on Therion who had rolled on to his side and was staring at the flames licking the wood that fueled it. “I haven’t been there in years. Have you ever been?”
“No, never been that far south.” His voice was a soothing baritone. It calmed my nerves when I heard in in hushed tones like now. “You worked in the spice trade down there?”
“I had business there.” I kept it ambiguous. I didn’t speak much about what I had to do to survive before adventuring, but I can tell you, it was the same as in Luskan as it was in Ormpur; those lusty men coming off the tradewinds had plenty of coin to offer in exchange for a tender touch, for love (or at least a reasonable facsimile). I was one of the best to offer, too. They all called me beautiful, and even though I never was beautiful, it felt nice hearing it. “It’s a nice city. Could be some work there. Easy shit for you. Lots of counting houses need guards there. The boarding houses are clean.”
Therion rolled over on his back again. “But if we were in a boarding house, I wouldn’t be sleeping close to that beautiful spring over yonder. I wouldn’t be able to lean back and count the twinkling stars. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to gaze at you over a campfire.” He turned his head to me, flashing his goofy grin.
I hoped my blush wouldn’t show in the dim light. “I—we’d still be traveling together. I mean, we have to be in the same place in a few months. And you wanted to come with me, even though I didn’t know where I was going.”
Therion stared up at the dark night’s sky and yawned a little. “Doesn’t matter where we go, honestly. Ormpur might be nice. I’ve never been there.” He smiled softly. “I figure as long as I have you around, I’ll be okay, you know?”
I threw another log in the fire ring and lay back, smiling a soft smile myself. “I do. And I’m glad you’re here, too.”
--
Morning came and the first thing I noticed was that Therion wasn’t in his bedroll. His equipment was still here, he must have just wandered off. I noticed his footprints trailing off in the direction of the spring. Figuring he went to clean some of his gear, I followed. My boots needed rinsed off and this was a good opportunity.
I was not prepared for the scene I walked in on. Therion, naked, lounging on a boulder by the pool of water, bare for the morning sun to shine on. My breath was immediately taken away.
He hadn’t seen nor heard me, and for that I was lucky. I ducked behind a bush and then was frozen, silent. I couldn’t help but to spy on my companion. I assumed that he must have just finished bathing and was drying off but once I saw his hands roaming over his big beautiful body, I couldn’t help but to let out a whisper of a whimper. Not more than 10 feet away, I watched as he writhed under his own touch and I was captivated.
Therion’s left hand pawed at his furry, meaty breast and his mouth opened in a silent moan as his fingertips strummed the protruding nipple. His right hand found the meadow of hair across his torso, then trailed down until it found the forest in between his legs, and right in the middle of that forest, a tall redwood stood strong and proud. Therion’s fingers gently grasped his cock, making full, soft strokes up and down. His loose foreskin rolled up and down, becoming more and more wet with his own juices the more he let go and gave in to his pleasure. His back arched, his pelvis rolled, his toes curled, his chest heaved with heavy breath as his fist became more insistent in it’s motion.
I watched him stare at his heavy penis, a veil of lust on his face, and I couldn’t help but to wonder if that’s what he would look like if my nose were rolling his musky balls around my face, if my tongue was lapping at his cock head, if that’s how he would look if I was on top, sliding him inside me as deep as it would go. My arsehole quivered at the thought, and my own dick throbbed to attention. This man, this perfect human male specimen, I wanted him like I had wanted no one else before and now. I wanted him more than food; I would feast upon his body. I wanted him more than water; his kiss would quench my thirst. I wanted him more than air; I would breathe his scent in and it would refresh me. I wanted him more than a warm blanket and a fire at night; his strong embrace would keep me warm and safe. I wanted him.
I watched, then saw his eyes roll back. His jaw clinched and he let out a deep, guttural moan. It was starting. His hips bucked and rolled and he reach the point of no return. The first few thick ropes of jism flew out across his furred stomach. The rest bubbled out, slopping up his knuckles and matting down his pubic bush. Therion writhed with convulsions as his impressive meat flung seed until there was no more to get out. His body then slowly relaxed and loosened up, laying back as if the boulder was cuddling him, a baby after a sweet lullaby.
I watched him until he languidly sat up and rolled back into the spring to clean himself up. I suddenly felt shame at spying. I felt so dirty, so ugly….really the way I felt every day of my life. An ugly person who has had to do ugly things to survive. I tried to not be that way anymore but I couldn’t escape it. I was ugly.
But Therion...my gods, but Therion…He was beautiful.
I slunk back to camp. I would clean my boots another day.
--
It would take us a week or so to get down to Ormpur. A part of me was actually looking forward to seeing the port city again. The salt air from the sea mixing with the deep scents of the spice cargo being loaded and unloaded from the ships. Ormpur was known as a hub of the spice trade, for no other reason that the city’s outlaying lands were home to fields of saffron crocus. It had been ten years since I had seen those fields and we would be coming in just as they were in bloom. It would be beautiful.
I did miss the city and genuinely was happy I’d be visiting again. I would just have to figure out a way to avoid the places from my past that weren’t so beautiful.
My heart hurt for the first couple of days after spying on Therion. I think he knew something was wrong, because he seemed to be extra kind to me. The first night in camp, he offered me the best of the our nightly rations, giving me an extra slice of of the moist part of the cheese wedge, instead taking for himself the dried out part, which gave me a smile. I remember staring at the fire as I slowly ate the nuts and dried fruits when I saw his big hand, knuckles fuzzy as his forearm, offer me the cheese. Looking up, I saw his kind smile as me and it made my heart warm to his expression.
It was the second night, and it was the dark of the moon. I had my whetstone out, sharpening my daggers and utility knife around the fire. The darkness surrounded us, the fire the only light around us. I was grinding one of the blades when I hear a soft melody surround my head.
I looked up and I saw Therion reclined with a small panflute, blowing with an ease about him and creating the gentle sound.
“Didn’t know you were a satyr,” I quipped dryly. “you’re as hairy as one.”
Therion stopped and turned his head to me. “Is it bothering you?”
“No, it’s nice,” I reassured. “Just didn’t know you played.”
“I received some bardic training in The Guard.” I noticed a wistful look on Therion’s face. “Picked up a few tricks from a...friend.” I saw his eyes shift, with an air of sadness to them.
“A friend?”
“Yeah,” I saw his lips purse. “We were very close.”
“I’ve had friends who were very close,” I offered. “Love hurts in the end. We’re not close anymore.”
“It...does.” He sighed. “His name was Palluc.” Therion swallowed dryly. “I had never been in love, you know?”
I was surprised at the admission. “I had no idea you were…”
“I had no idea either, until I met him. I just thought that I was too focused on the Guard for women.” He sighed heavily. “I had thoughts, you know...but I didn’t...I didn’t think...I don’t know.” A beat. “I--I thought that all men had thoughts about each other. But I guess not.” His voice cracked. “Palluc, he was my training partner. I was struck the first time I saw him. And when we did hand-to-hand drills for the first time, our chemistry was immediate. He’s the one who taught me how to play. That night, we got really drunk.” Therion let out a chuckle. “We fooled around. Got lost in each other’s arms. His kiss was so sweet. That’s when he started teaching me to play. He gave me this set of pipes. He said just play with your heart he said.” His thumb wiped away a burgeoning tear. “Then it changed. We were just fooling around, he said. Just doing what we needed to. Blowing off steam. You are getting too into it, he said. We can’t continue this, he said. He asked for a transfer to another unit. We never spent time around each other after that. I think our superiors knew.” He breathed heavy. “Funny how I went from never even realizing that I was into guys to getting my heart broken severely within the span of only a half a year. I bet you weren’t as dumb as me, Adrik.”
“You aren’t dumb at all.” My heart ached for Therion. “But you’re right. I knew very early.” I wiped the oil from the now sharp utility knife. I moved on to a dagger.
“You did?”
I took my first grind on the somewhat dull blade. “I just didn’t have a name for it. Just a few of the older boys I knew could do no wrong. I was wrong.” I paused. “Cale. He was everything I wanted to be. He was beautiful. Tall and handsome and he knew how to turn on the charm when he wanted something. Too bad he wanted something all the time. I was in love. And he manipulated those feelings I had for him. Asked me to do things. For him and others.” I turned the blade over and evened out the point. “Bad things. Things that hurt my soul. And when the men he whored me out to, who I stole from, when they had no more interest in me, Cale tossed me aside.” I sighed. “But hey, made me into what you see today.”
“What happened to him?” I could tell that Therion was hesitant to ask. I didn’t mind.
“I saw him starting the same thing on a few of the younger boys in our crew.” I looked up and right into Therion’s eyes. “Then I made sure that he would never hurt anyone again.” I looked back down and continued sharpening. “I stuck around to make sure the new kids were okay, found them legit jobs, made sure they had a roof to sleep under and a hand feeding them, and then I took off. The kids were sad to see me go but...I just wanted to make sure they would be okay. But being around them reminded me of Cale. I couldn’t stay.”
There were a few minutes where we just sat with the silence between us. Then Therion broke the silence.
“Remember, Adrik,” he nearly whispered. “We’ll be treasure someday.”
After a couple of moments, my eyes darted up briefly to Therion. He had a mournful look. He turned and started playing the soft melody again. It gave me a small bit of comfort.
He already was treasure to me, his body and his face and his heart. He was beautiful.
--
We had been working for a trader’s warehouse for a week and it felt like good honest work. Therion had been putting his good muscles to work loading and unloading ships. I had been more of a courier, running manifests and documents between the various trading houses. It still was good work. And it felt good when we got our week’s pay.
“Well then, Adrik,” Therion jingled the coins in his purse as we walked along. “I believe a good week’s work deserves a nice evening. Should we hit one of the taverns?”
I tensed up a little. “I mean, I suppose we could,” I decided to feign being tired. “I kinda just want to go back to the boarding house and sleep some.”
“Oh, come on! It will be fun!” Therion’s eyes lit up. “There’s that tavern down by the docks. It always looks lively! We’ll get a pint, have a meal…” His grin was beaming. “We deserve it!”
I couldn’t say no to him. Anyway, what’s the chance that anyone would recognize me from back then, if they were still around?
We walked into The Singing Whale, which was one of the taverns I frequented back in the day. I would meet men there, lure them in, sell a small bit of my time for a good price, and if I didn’t particularly like them, I’d lift their coin purses. Only if they deserved it, of course, and I always made sure to spread the wealth along. There was a street kid who roamed around the docks, trying to hustle up what work he could for a bite to eat...I was always sure to give him a shiny gold piece that would keep him fed for a few days. He was a half elf too, only redheaded instead of my brown hair. Still, he reminded me of myself, and I didn’t want him going hungry.
I took a deep breath and the scent was immediately familiar. It was a heady mix of the food cooking in the back, the ale spilled on the ground, the wood of the walls soaked with the sea air, the slight musk of the swarthy sailors that would flood the tavern every time they landed, eager for some enjoyment. It wasn’t too busy, but there were a good amount of people in there. We found a table and sat down, Therion obviously drinking in the scenery, me relishing some of the memories coming into my mind, and also trying to ignore some others.
A barmaid came and took our order. The special was their lamb stew which was always a favorite of mine. I hoped it tasted the same as back then. We were waiting for our order when Therion stood up.
“I need to find the chamber pot, Adrik.” I nodded my understanding and he wandered off. As soon as he left the table, someone came up behind me.
“Are you gentlemen lonely tonight?” A male voice, honeyed with seduction, purred behind me. “Would you like some company?”
I turned and looked up. It was a male half-elf, long red hair, tender green eyes, and a face that I recognized, however aged some.
“Adrik, is that you?” He jolted with surprise. “It’s me, Gathin!”
The boy I used to slip gold to had grown into a beautiful young man. And he had obviously found steady work doing what I used to.
“Well hello,” I was genuinely surprised, but happy to see him. “Sit down, it’s been a long time!”
He beamed at seeing me again. “I didn’t know you were in town again. I saw that man you’re with. You’re not...working, are you?”
I looked down and chuckled. “No, he’s a friend.” It stung a little that he thought I was still in the life, but he didn’t know any better. “I’m an adventurer now. I’m just in town getting a little side work on the farms outside the city walls.”
“Is that so?” Gathin seemed impressed. “That’s great! I’ve thought about other things I could be doing but this seems to be what I’m good at.” He looked down, a twinge of shame in his eye. “At least I can feed myself, I suppose. I might start working at one of the houses soon. Better than trolling the taverns, you know? Safer.”
“True. I really hope that works out for you.” I gently took his hand. “I always wanted you to be okay, you know? I’m glad you’re still kicking around.”
He looked me in the eyes with gratitude. “There were many times when you made a difference for me, I want you to know. I’ve never forgotten that.”
“GATHIN!” I heard a loud, booming voice that sent chills down my spine. I instantly recognized that voice.
“Oh, I have to go,” Gathin looked worried. “It’s a regular of mine. He’s a mean one but he always gives me good coin.” He stood and so did I. He embraced me tight. “It’s so good to see you. Hopefully we can catch up more before you leave the city.”
“I’d like tha—” I was cut off by a big, ugly half-orc stomping up. Greenish tanned skin, sparse hair on top, one big tusk, the other tusk broken off to a jagged point, beady black eyes that were filled with piss and vinegar. I recognized him, that hideous, ugly beast dressed in a loose white shirt and tight leathers, a calling horn on one side of his belt. On the other, a shiny cutlass. It was Wark the Stormbringer. He was once one of my regulars too.
“Gathin! There you are! I’ve been—” His gaze turned to be and his eyes narrowed. “Well, lookit who we have here.” A sneering grin spread across his disgusting face. “Well, well, Adrik, I never thought you’d show your face around here. The last time I saw you, you robbed me blind. Stole 200 gold from me.”
I let out a laugh that was more scared than humorous. “Hello Wark, didn’t think you’d still be alive, That was ten years ago, after all.”
“Oh I’m still alive, and I think you owe me.” He grabbed me by the arm, hard, his clawed grip digging into my flesh, his voice a cruel growl. “I think you owe me a few things.”
“I owe you nothing, arsehole.” I tried to twist myself from his grasp, getting more forceful. “Let me go, you’re hurting me!” I spat in his face. “Fuck you! Let me go!”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Wark let out a positively evil guffaw. “You remember it! I like it when you fight a little!”
“What’s going on here?!” Therion’s voice boomed from behind me. “Let him go!”
“Who’s this?” Wark’s eyes narrowed, focusing in on my companion who was closing the gap. “Is this who’s buying your arse tonight?”
Therion suddenly appeared by my side and grabbed hold of Wark’s wrist, breaking the orc’s grasp on me and twisting the claw into a submission hold. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Therion’s voice was controlled but still boiled with rage.
Wark shook off Therion’s grasp easily and took a step back. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I own this dock. I’ll have what I please!”
Wark balled his fist and took a wide swing at Therion, which he easily ducked. Therion rose up sharply, headbutting the orc in the jaw, then spun sharply, swinging an elbow into Wark’s temple. The orc was staggered, and Therion used that to his advantage. He kicked his knee up, landing a vicious gut shot. Wark doubled over, his breath lost. Therion brought both of his clinched fists together and brought them down forcefully on the back of Wark’s head, finally knocking the goliath unconscious and collapsing his big body on the floor.
The barmaid walked up, nonchalant. “Well, then, about time someone did that lout in. He’s deserved it for years!” She set two plates of stew down on the table as two barmen came to drag Wark’s limp body outside. “Now, y’ready to eat?”
--
We were back at the boarding house, and Therion had used some of this pay to get us a private room, figuring that we needed some privacy after the night at the tavern. Therion hadn’t said anything to me after leaving the tavern. I hadn’t said anything either.
He requested the innkeep upgrade us to a private room and suggested that this might be our last night here. I wanted to protest but it happened so quick. I just went along with it. He must have thought I caused too much trouble to stick around in this city. It was for the best.
I sat on the bed on the left, he on the right. He was looking at me, I could feel it. I couldn’t look up to meet his gaze. He must have been furious at me. I suddenly was that scared young boy again, when Cale would get so angry at me for not bringing back enough coin, screaming at me that I needed to pickpocket more unsuspecting tourists, sneak around more merchant stalls, entice more horny men...I felt myself shake a little. I wanted to break out into a sob. I didn’t, though. I never cried anymore. Never.
“Adrik…” His soft baritone wandered into my ears. I felt my ear points shiver.
“I’m sorry,” I cut him off with a shaky hushed tone. “I’m sorry I caused trouble. I’m sorry I ruined our time here. I should have known.” I swallowed. Hard. My head collapsed into my hands. “We can leave in the morning. You must be so embarrassed. I’m sorry.”
I finally peeked at Therion, stealing a glance at his face. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look furious. He looked...sad, worried. I immediately felt worse.
“Are you alright?” His voice was even, no pique of rage at all. It was tender, kind. I’ve heard that tone before. It was a tone he always used with people we defended, people we rescued. Was I just another rescue to him?
I inhaled sharply, immediately steeling myself while taking off my tight leather jacket. “I’m fine. I’ve fought off meaner and uglier.” I went to take my overshirt off and revealed a nasty bruise on my arm where Wark had grabbed me. Guess he grabbed me harder than I thought.
Therion gasped a little. “You’re hurt…” He got up off of his bed and came over, kneeling in front of me to look at the bruise, tenderly touching me. “Did he pierce the skin?”
I jerked the arm away from him. “I said I’m fine.” I said roughly. “I don’t need your pity, Therion.”
I looked at him and saw his eyes drop. My words wounded him, I could tell.
“Is that what you think of me?” He whispered. “That I pity you? That I think so little of you?”
I was confounded. “What?”
He looked up at me, his eyes starting to well up. “Adrik, I saw him...I saw him hurting you. I thought he was going to—”
“Don’t you care what he was saying?” I was so confounded. “You heard that, right?”
“I did…”
“He used to...I used to do so many ugly things, Therion. I whored. I stole. I did both with him, to him.” I dropped my guard. “I promise, it has been years since I’ve done anything like that. But what I did back then...I did what I had to in order to survive.”
“I don’t doubt that, Adrik.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to do such awful things.”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. It was the first time I shed a tear in many, many years. “Don’t you care about what I did? I did horrible, ugly things. I’m a thief. I’m a murderer. I’m a whore.” More tears came. “Don’t you care?”
“And don’t you realize that was in the far past?” Therion pushed back. “You have done so many good things since I’ve known you, Adrik. So many good things.” He let out a quiet laugh. “You don’t think I noticed when you slipped that older couple some coin back there in Turmish? A bad person wouldn’t have done that.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve always been so ugly. Everyone’s told me that since I was a child. I’ve done so many ugly things.” I was crying now. Tears poured down my face. “My face, my body, my soul...I’m so ugly, Therion. So, so ugly.”
I felt his hand come up to my face. It cradled my jaw and he used his thumb to wipe away a tear. “You’re beautiful, Adrik.”
I looked up and stared in his eyes. He had a gentle smile. Kind. Loving.
“Therion…” I was stunned. He called me beautiful.
“Your face, it’s beautiful. Such full lips, such high cheeks, such a strong jaw and such dreamlike eyes.” His voice was like a melody. “Your body...I’ve seen you bathe, I’ve watched you. I couldn’t help it. Your body is at once lithe and sturdy. It looks so wonderful both in combat and at rest, and so many nights I’ve wanted to hold you in my arms. Your soul...your soul is the most beautiful of them all, so hurt but still so confident, so kind, generous, thoughtful...” He went back to a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”
I looked in his eyes and he looked in mine. Moments passed. It was unspoken but we knew. Both of us knew.
Therion leaned in and I closed my eyes. I felt the warmth of his beard nuzzle into my face and his plump lips press against mine. I slowly opened my mouth to accept his kiss. I couldn’t help but to whimper when I tasted his tongue, so tender and soft. I could feel his heart and soul in this kiss.
He removed his jacket and tossed it to the side. He lay me back on my bed and slid beside me, still kissing, wrapping his big arms around me. He held and kissed me, cradled me with his big hairy body, that big hairy body I saw at the spring. I pressed my body up against his, as close as it would go, breathing his breath in, legs intertwining, arms so tight around each other’s body.
Eventually our kiss broke. Therion rubbed his beard around my face. His lips found my forehead in a soft kiss, and we lay there. We both fell asleep that way.
--
I awoke just before sun up, first thinking I was a young man again. I was waking up in the arms of a man who paid me for the evening. For a moment, I peered around the room, looking for his coin purse, looking how I could sneak out with it, looking for my getaway. I glanced down at the big arms holding me and for a split second I looked to see how I could escape his tight grasp and slink out.
Then I saw the familiarity of the strong, hairy arms around me, saw how they were holding me gently and firmly. Then I felt his beard nuzzle closer into my neck, his sweet breath warming my sensitive skin. Then I felt him shift his big, broad body closer to me, bringing his heat in the cool morning sea breeze that was making the thin curtains dance in the opened window.
It was Therion. It wasn’t a dream. He was holding me, cradling me like I was something or someone who needed care, who needed to feel safe. I was safe. I was safe.
I slowly turned my body to face him. He laid with his head on the pillow, dreamy smile on his face. He slowly opened his eyes and found my gaze. “There’s my beautiful.”
I melted into the pillow. I nuzzled my face up against his beard and found his lips with mine. He kissed me softly, easily, and I returned it. It was a lazy kiss, lips parting, mouths opening, tongues slowly lapping at each other. It was a comfortable kiss that warmed my soul.
Therion’s hands started tracing my backbone, up and down. He started waking up and his kiss became more focused, more passionate, more needy. My hands instinctively went to his chest, running my fingers through the thick pelt on his chest. It was pleasantly fluffy and I wanted to feel it on my face.
I felt his big meaty paws slide down my back and cup the curve of my round, firm ass, squeezing and kneading. He pulled me in closer to him. I felt his mighty penis throbbing to a thick, stiff erection and mine was plumping up as well. I couldn’t help but to think, this is what I’ve dreamt about. This was what I so desperately wanted. He ground his big cock into mine and groaned as his rotated his hips.
Normally this is when I would go into performance mode. I would go down, lick his nipples, suck his balls and his cock for a good long while. If he wanted to finish in my mouth, I’d let him (and then discretely spit out the evidence) or if he wanted to fuck me, I’d let him. But with Therion it was more primal, the need was too great. I slid my leg up his thigh and split my cheeks open slightly to allow Therion’s thick fingers to start sliding in the cleft of my arse and finding the sweet puckered entrance to my hole. I needed him. I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted anyone.
His finger entered me and I threw my head back in a gasp. His bearded mouth immediately found my neck and continued kissing and licking my smooth skin. First one, then two, the more he slid his fingers in and out of my quivering arsehole, the more I wanted. I started involuntarily bucking backwards to meet his penetration. “Please…” I whispered urgently. “P-please Therion…”
I was ready and I could tell he was too. His hefty prick was drooling a steady stream of precum on my inner thigh and I knew it wanted to be inside me. I reached back, took his hand away, and scooted my body upward so I could get his penis under me and ready to fuck.
I thought I was ready. I knew he was thick, but I had taken thicker. His cock was perfect for me, though. Perfect girth, perfect curve. Did it have to go slow as he popped his flared out helmet in? Yes, I had to get accustomed to the stretch of my hole. Was it worth it when, as he sank in, I felt it push across that sweet nut on the inside? Absolutely. It sent shock waves through my body and I let out a whimper when it happened.
I would normally push the man over on his back, treating him to a sweet ride, doing all the work for his maximum pleasure, or at least that’s how I used to do it. Paying clientele, after all. But the look in Therion’s eyes, the urgent way he rolled me on my back, heaving his furred body onto mine, I could tell he was desperate to pump and pound.
And he did! It was slow at first, all the while staring into my eyes, monitoring for any discomfort. He must have been used to his lovers needing some time to get used to the fuck, but as he saw that I was only getting pleasure from his efforts, he started to go a little harder, a little deeper, a little faster. He let himself go a little more wild, a little more primal, a little more feral. He collapsed his sweaty body onto mine, my legs up and apart, allowing him to do what he needed to do, to make love to me and savor my body. His face dove into the nape of my neck. He chewed on my shoulder. He grunted and panted, reminiscent of an animal in the throes of breeding his mate.
Therion growled in my ear. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” “I’ve wanted you so badly.” “Now I have you.” “Gods, you feel so good.” “Never leave me.”
“You’re so beautiful, Adrik.” That one caught me off guard. “So, so beautiful.”
I was experiencing my mind shattering and bursting the entire time, it was all I could do to keep sane through all the beatitudes that Therion was spilling out of his mouth and the deep probing that his fat, hefty cock was giving my tender arsehole. His broad battering ram of a cockhead was thumping against my spot inside over and over and driving me to a body wrecking climax when I was finally able to form words right before I went over the edge.
“Therion, I—I love you.”
For a moment before my explosion, I saw Therion’s face, so mixed with ecstasy and bliss and relief and momentousness and right then, right then I heard it.
“Oh Adrik, I love you. I love you!” Then he had the audacity to cum moments before I did, invoking the name of his god. “Here I-- Oh my Lord Lathander!!”
Therion let out a bellow so deep and fierce that it could have been from a wild animal pierced by an arrow from a hunter. His head reared back and I feel his cock have hard, strong contractions in my beaten up insides. I felt his thick, gooey wads fire off inside me. It seemed as if it would never end—he must have unloaded a waterskin full of hot spunk inside me.
While my lover was mid-orgasm, it was my turn. My head involuntarily tensed and raised up off the bed and I let out a cry as, hands free, I let out ropes of milk-white sperm, gluing Therion’s belly hair to my skin. I shook, I shivered, I quivered, and Therion held me tight, breathing heavy, immobilized by his coming down from the heights of his pleasure.
When I could move again, it occurred to me that this is where I would usually feel shame at my ugly act, shame from taking a strange man’s cum inside me, shame in what I have done for a quick coin, and shame for what I was about to do, stealing the man’s purse while he took an after-fuck piss. But all I could feel is the reassuring weight of Therion’s body collapsed, half on me, half off, and his gentle pecks upon my cheek as he whispered “My gods, my gods…”
I turned my face to his and looked at his eyes, filled with exhaustion and bliss. I tilted my head inwards and I kissed him deep. I pulled back and I couldn’t help myself but to say something.
“I love you.”
His lips formed into a silly, happy grin. “I’ve been waiting so long to hear that from you.” His eyes started to well up. “I love you too. So, so much. You beautiful, beautiful man.”
I lay my head upon his chest. For the first time in my life, I felt beautiful.
--
We slept a few more hours, entangled in each other’s arms and legs, the afterglow of our lovemaking, then we got up. We washed each other tenderly, using the wash basin provided in the room, and dressed, stealing kisses from each other all the while. It was when we had put on our boots and exited the boarding house did we finally start talking in earnest.
“I’m prepared to leave this city if you want, Adrik.” Therion earnestly stated. “I understand if you’re worried about what happened.”
I shook my head. “Honestly, I remember how Wark was and if he’s still the same, that will leave him with his tail between his legs for quite some time. Anyway, stay or leave, I should probably track Gathin down and make sure he’s okay.”
“That might be a good idea.” Therion nodded. “Okay then, after that. Should we stay? Should we hit the road? Move on to another city? Track down a cave? Hunt an owlbear? Take down an evil wizard?” I rose an eyebrow at his increasingly outlandish ideas. He simply gave me one of his signature wide, goofy grins. “Slay a dragon?”
That got a slight chuckle from me, as I walked so close to him that I gave him a slight bump with my body. “I dunno, to be honest. I do know that we need to work hard, whatever we do. As you say, Therion. ‘We’re trash, Adrik, but someday we’ll be treasure!’ “
I felt Therion’s hand reach out to mine and grasp it lightly, lovingly. “Adrik, I believe you already are. You’re my treasure. I love you.”
I looked at him and saw the sincere smile he gave me. He was so beautiful.
Trash and Treasure: Another Romantically Smutty Little Story by me
so, I'm back after years at this point. Been trying to get back into writing and I started with this. I've been really inspired by the world of Faerun lately (thanks Baldur's Gate 3!) and I wrote this about two damaged, damaged souls. It's a bit of a long one but definitely spicy! Please let me know your opinion. I hope you like it!
PS: I'm looking for other sites and venues to post stuff like this. If y'all have any ideas, please let me know!
I stared into the fire at our camp. It had been dark for a couple of hours but yet neither one of us was tired. I fiddled with the long braid coming from my right temple, the silver beads shining in the fire’s glow. I loved these beads. The old woman who sold them to me in Neverwinter said they would contrast with the chestnut tones in my dark hair, and would bring out the jade tones in my green eyes. The old woman said that my eyes were beautiful. Of course she was flattering me so that I would buy them but she was right, they did flatter me. I loved putting them in my hair. They made me feel beautiful, and ever since I was a boy, I always wanted to be one of the beautiful ones. I never was.
I started putting balm on the points of my ears. They weren’t as pointed as a full-blooded elf but they were pointed enough that they would get dry. I hated them. I wish I would look more human, or more elf, not the half breed I was. My face wasn’t as narrow as an elf, but my jaw wasn’t as square as a human man would be. I only had slightly angular features, and my body was almost as stocky and broad shouldered as a human was, but not quite. I didn’t look right. Some said they liked the way I looked but I knew they were just being nice.
Therion was laying on his bedroll, head propped on his pack and was staring at the stars. Much like the dancing flames of the fire were illuminating the beads in my hair, they cast a gentle glow on his profile. His nose contrasted strongly against his deep-set dark eyes. The shadows played on his tanned face, then blended seamlessly into his thick beard. Likewise did they blend into his chest, his body hair peeking from his half open shirt. That’s one thing that I always admired about full blooded human men: the ability to be absolutely covered in soft, downy fur. As a half-elf, I was able to grow some, just a little trail down my torso, but it wasn’t like he had.
He was so handsome, so big and tall and broad-shouldered, of a hearty stock compared to my more lithe frame. He was one of the beautiful ones. I had thought so since the day I met him two years ago.
--
I had started adventuring out of necessity. I got tired of working for scraps. I didn’t have a good upbringing; my mother died when I was very young, and my father gave me up, his elvish blood calling him to the wild and not desiring to be tied down rearing a child. As such, when I was twelve, the orphanage seemed to have no further use to me, the ugly half elf child they always hated to take care of anyway, and I started scraping by on the streets of Luskan, a port city rife with pirates and smugglers. At times I was an errand boy, a storeroom sweeper, and when I was older a pickpocket, a prostitute, and a thief...I did what I needed to survive. But Therion didn’t care about any of that. He called me a good person. We first met when I was trying to defend a family from a pack of goblins trying to rob them. I couldn’t let those poor kids be hurt. I couldn’t let that hobbled man and his wife be robbed blind. I couldn’t let those kids be scared, scared like I was when I was a kid. Therion happened upon us just in time to take care of the final one in the band. He helped clean up the family’s overturned cart and patted me on the back, saying that it was good to know that there were good adventurers still out there. I smiled, even though I wasn’t that good. We joined up with the others shortly after but we always felt like kindred spirits in that way. He had been raised as an orphan too, only he was given to the Waterdeep city guard when his Uncle saw no further use for him. “I was kicked out when I had the audacity to have a moral compass,” He would say. Now that he was out, he decided to find his fortune on the road.
“Adrik, we’re both trash in this world,” He would tell me. “But someday, we’ll be treasure.”
The thought always made me smile.
The first time we had a major fight and I saw him in combat...that’s when I knew. He wasn’t some ordinary merc slasher flunky. This party had really lucked out finding him. Back then, it was me, and him, and Syndra and Rania, twin elven sisters who were clerics of Corellon Larethian. Vuldred was there, his spellbook always handy to have in a fight. That was before we picked up Torrus the dwarf, but he would come shortly after, another strong arm with his warhammer. And of course, there was me. I was handy with a hand crossbow and I had my daggers. I remember holding my own in it but that first fight...Therion was magnificent. We had come across a kobold nest, a huge one, and there were dozens of them. It seemed an endless fight. I had both daggers painted with blood and they still kept coming. But that didn’t stop me from being in awe of Therion. He nearly glowed like a paladin with holy energy when he swung his sword, cleaving two at a time. Sweat glistened across his brow as he shoved and plowed through the throngs of attackers, all clawing and tearing and jabbering their strange language. But he didn’t falter. With every swing of his shining sword, he commanded presence. He was passion. He was power. He was force personified. He was regal. He was majestic. He was a god among the material world. He was beautiful.
And now he was laying across the fire from me.
--
I was surprised when he said that he wanted to come with me. The group was in between quests. Therion had always had a soft spot for helping the kind, the poor, the downtrodden and we had just got done retrieving a family amulet for a very nice older farmer and his wife in Turmish. It was all they had owned, all that they had left of their legacy and it had been stolen. They couldn’t pay much, but Therion convinced the group that we could run into some good loot when the pursuit of the thieves had led to an old temple of a long forgotten god that they were using as a hideout. It had yielded some pretty good items out of it, and surprisingly lots of gold. I made sure to sneak a good amount of my gold to the old couple, to help them stave off the impending poverty of their failing farm. It made me feel good, and there was plenty left over for my own pocket. Despite the riches, it was indeed rough fighting all the undead in the temple so we all decided to take some time off, enjoy the spring, enjoy our heavy purses for once, and reconvene in Baldur’s Gate by Midsummer. Adventuring could be lucrative but taxing, as one can imagine. Time off helped recharge one’s courage and mental fortitude. The twins were going back to their Order and would be resting there. Vuldred would head to Baldur’s Gate straightway, as he had business in the city. Torrus would be doing some trading in Amn before heading to the Sword Coast.
And I? I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Maybe head back to Cormyr where I had spent a short time before I found our band, though nothing of interest remained for me there. Hell, I might as well go down to Ormpur and work a little there again, though the work there that I’d find most easily might not be the kind I’d want to get back into. It was definitely not work I’d want to expose Therion to. There was always the fields though...Mainly I just wanted to wander somewhere without the major fear of something actively working towards my demise. I had too many evil lords, wizards, and ghouls after me in the recent past. I needed to put my mind at ease. Wandering, traveling, it did that, and I was shocked when Therion asked if he could tag along. He was of a similar mindset as I...nothing to go back to, no home base anymore. Just life on the open road. Live by the sword and d—well, maybe not die by the sword just yet. I hope not.
I broke the silence of the campfire. “I was thinking of maybe heading down to Ormpur. Maybe getting some work down there. I know we don’t need to work right now but...” I kept my gaze on Therion who had rolled on to his side and was staring at the flames licking the wood that fueled it. “I haven’t been there in years. Have you ever been?”
“No, never been that far south.” His voice was a soothing baritone. It calmed my nerves when I heard in in hushed tones like now. “You worked in the spice trade down there?”
“I had business there.” I kept it ambiguous. I didn’t speak much about what I had to do to survive before adventuring, but I can tell you, it was the same as in Luskan as it was in Ormpur; those lusty men coming off the tradewinds had plenty of coin to offer in exchange for a tender touch, for love (or at least a reasonable facsimile). I was one of the best to offer, too. They all called me beautiful, and even though I never was beautiful, it felt nice hearing it. “It’s a nice city. Could be some work there. Easy shit for you. Lots of counting houses need guards there. The boarding houses are clean.”
Therion rolled over on his back again. “But if we were in a boarding house, I wouldn’t be sleeping close to that beautiful spring over yonder. I wouldn’t be able to lean back and count the twinkling stars. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to gaze at you over a campfire.” He turned his head to me, flashing his goofy grin.
I hoped my blush wouldn’t show in the dim light. “I—we’d still be traveling together. I mean, we have to be in the same place in a few months. And you wanted to come with me, even though I didn’t know where I was going.”
Therion stared up at the dark night’s sky and yawned a little. “Doesn’t matter where we go, honestly. Ormpur might be nice. I’ve never been there.” He smiled softly. “I figure as long as I have you around, I’ll be okay, you know?”
I threw another log in the fire ring and lay back, smiling a soft smile myself. “I do. And I’m glad you’re here, too.”
--
Morning came and the first thing I noticed was that Therion wasn’t in his bedroll. His equipment was still here, he must have just wandered off. I noticed his footprints trailing off in the direction of the spring. Figuring he went to clean some of his gear, I followed. My boots needed rinsed off and this was a good opportunity.
I was not prepared for the scene I walked in on. Therion, naked, lounging on a boulder by the pool of water, bare for the morning sun to shine on. My breath was immediately taken away.
He hadn’t seen nor heard me, and for that I was lucky. I ducked behind a bush and then was frozen, silent. I couldn’t help but to spy on my companion. I assumed that he must have just finished bathing and was drying off but once I saw his hands roaming over his big beautiful body, I couldn’t help but to let out a whisper of a whimper. Not more than 10 feet away, I watched as he writhed under his own touch and I was captivated.
Therion’s left hand pawed at his furry, meaty breast and his mouth opened in a silent moan as his fingertips strummed the protruding nipple. His right hand found the meadow of hair across his torso, then trailed down until it found the forest in between his legs, and right in the middle of that forest, a tall redwood stood strong and proud. Therion’s fingers gently grasped his cock, making full, soft strokes up and down. His loose foreskin rolled up and down, becoming more and more wet with his own juices the more he let go and gave in to his pleasure. His back arched, his pelvis rolled, his toes curled, his chest heaved with heavy breath as his fist became more insistent in it’s motion.
I watched him stare at his heavy penis, a veil of lust on his face, and I couldn’t help but to wonder if that’s what he would look like if my nose were rolling his musky balls around my face, if my tongue was lapping at his cock head, if that’s how he would look if I was on top, sliding him inside me as deep as it would go. My arsehole quivered at the thought, and my own dick throbbed to attention. This man, this perfect human male specimen, I wanted him like I had wanted no one else before and now. I wanted him more than food; I would feast upon his body. I wanted him more than water; his kiss would quench my thirst. I wanted him more than air; I would breathe his scent in and it would refresh me. I wanted him more than a warm blanket and a fire at night; his strong embrace would keep me warm and safe. I wanted him.
I watched, then saw his eyes roll back. His jaw clinched and he let out a deep, guttural moan. It was starting. His hips bucked and rolled and he reach the point of no return. The first few thick ropes of jism flew out across his furred stomach. The rest bubbled out, slopping up his knuckles and matting down his pubic bush. Therion writhed with convulsions as his impressive meat flung seed until there was no more to get out. His body then slowly relaxed and loosened up, laying back as if the boulder was cuddling him, a baby after a sweet lullaby.
I watched him until he languidly sat up and rolled back into the spring to clean himself up. I suddenly felt shame at spying. I felt so dirty, so ugly….really the way I felt every day of my life. An ugly person who has had to do ugly things to survive. I tried to not be that way anymore but I couldn’t escape it. I was ugly.
But Therion...my gods, but Therion…He was beautiful.
I slunk back to camp. I would clean my boots another day.
--
It would take us a week or so to get down to Ormpur. A part of me was actually looking forward to seeing the port city again. The salt air from the sea mixing with the deep scents of the spice cargo being loaded and unloaded from the ships. Ormpur was known as a hub of the spice trade, for no other reason that the city’s outlaying lands were home to fields of saffron crocus. It had been ten years since I had seen those fields and we would be coming in just as they were in bloom. It would be beautiful.
I did miss the city and genuinely was happy I’d be visiting again. I would just have to figure out a way to avoid the places from my past that weren’t so beautiful.
My heart hurt for the first couple of days after spying on Therion. I think he knew something was wrong, because he seemed to be extra kind to me. The first night in camp, he offered me the best of the our nightly rations, giving me an extra slice of of the moist part of the cheese wedge, instead taking for himself the dried out part, which gave me a smile. I remember staring at the fire as I slowly ate the nuts and dried fruits when I saw his big hand, knuckles fuzzy as his forearm, offer me the cheese. Looking up, I saw his kind smile as me and it made my heart warm to his expression.
It was the second night, and it was the dark of the moon. I had my whetstone out, sharpening my daggers and utility knife around the fire. The darkness surrounded us, the fire the only light around us. I was grinding one of the blades when I hear a soft melody surround my head.
I looked up and I saw Therion reclined with a small panflute, blowing with an ease about him and creating the gentle sound.
“Didn’t know you were a satyr,” I quipped dryly. “you’re as hairy as one.”
Therion stopped and turned his head to me. “Is it bothering you?”
“No, it’s nice,” I reassured. “Just didn’t know you played.”
“I received some bardic training in The Guard.” I noticed a wistful look on Therion’s face. “Picked up a few tricks from a...friend.” I saw his eyes shift, with an air of sadness to them.
“A friend?”
“Yeah,” I saw his lips purse. “We were very close.”
“I’ve had friends who were very close,” I offered. “Love hurts in the end. We’re not close anymore.”
“It...does.” He sighed. “His name was Palluc.” Therion swallowed dryly. “I had never been in love, you know?”
I was surprised at the admission. “I had no idea you were…”
“I had no idea either, until I met him. I just thought that I was too focused on the Guard for women.” He sighed heavily. “I had thoughts, you know...but I didn’t...I didn’t think...I don’t know.” A beat. “I--I thought that all men had thoughts about each other. But I guess not.” His voice cracked. “Palluc, he was my training partner. I was struck the first time I saw him. And when we did hand-to-hand drills for the first time, our chemistry was immediate. He’s the one who taught me how to play. That night, we got really drunk.” Therion let out a chuckle. “We fooled around. Got lost in each other’s arms. His kiss was so sweet. That’s when he started teaching me to play. He gave me this set of pipes. He said just play with your heart he said.” His thumb wiped away a burgeoning tear. “Then it changed. We were just fooling around, he said. Just doing what we needed to. Blowing off steam. You are getting too into it, he said. We can’t continue this, he said. He asked for a transfer to another unit. We never spent time around each other after that. I think our superiors knew.” He breathed heavy. “Funny how I went from never even realizing that I was into guys to getting my heart broken severely within the span of only a half a year. I bet you weren’t as dumb as me, Adrik.”
“You aren’t dumb at all.” My heart ached for Therion. “But you’re right. I knew very early.” I wiped the oil from the now sharp utility knife. I moved on to a dagger.
“You did?”
I took my first grind on the somewhat dull blade. “I just didn’t have a name for it. Just a few of the older boys I knew could do no wrong. I was wrong.” I paused. “Cale. He was everything I wanted to be. He was beautiful. Tall and handsome and he knew how to turn on the charm when he wanted something. Too bad he wanted something all the time. I was in love. And he manipulated those feelings I had for him. Asked me to do things. For him and others.” I turned the blade over and evened out the point. “Bad things. Things that hurt my soul. And when the men he whored me out to, who I stole from, when they had no more interest in me, Cale tossed me aside.” I sighed. “But hey, made me into what you see today.”
“What happened to him?” I could tell that Therion was hesitant to ask. I didn’t mind.
“I saw him starting the same thing on a few of the younger boys in our crew.” I looked up and right into Therion’s eyes. “Then I made sure that he would never hurt anyone again.” I looked back down and continued sharpening. “I stuck around to make sure the new kids were okay, found them legit jobs, made sure they had a roof to sleep under and a hand feeding them, and then I took off. The kids were sad to see me go but...I just wanted to make sure they would be okay. But being around them reminded me of Cale. I couldn’t stay.”
There were a few minutes where we just sat with the silence between us. Then Therion broke the silence.
“Remember, Adrik,” he nearly whispered. “We’ll be treasure someday.”
After a couple of moments, my eyes darted up briefly to Therion. He had a mournful look. He turned and started playing the soft melody again. It gave me a small bit of comfort.
He already was treasure to me, his body and his face and his heart. He was beautiful.
--
We had been working for a trader’s warehouse for a week and it felt like good honest work. Therion had been putting his good muscles to work loading and unloading ships. I had been more of a courier, running manifests and documents between the various trading houses. It still was good work. And it felt good when we got our week’s pay.
“Well then, Adrik,” Therion jingled the coins in his purse as we walked along. “I believe a good week’s work deserves a nice evening. Should we hit one of the taverns?”
I tensed up a little. “I mean, I suppose we could,” I decided to feign being tired. “I kinda just want to go back to the boarding house and sleep some.”
“Oh, come on! It will be fun!” Therion’s eyes lit up. “There’s that tavern down by the docks. It always looks lively! We’ll get a pint, have a meal…” His grin was beaming. “We deserve it!”
I couldn’t say no to him. Anyway, what’s the chance that anyone would recognize me from back then, if they were still around?
We walked into The Singing Whale, which was one of the taverns I frequented back in the day. I would meet men there, lure them in, sell a small bit of my time for a good price, and if I didn’t particularly like them, I’d lift their coin purses. Only if they deserved it, of course, and I always made sure to spread the wealth along. There was a street kid who roamed around the docks, trying to hustle up what work he could for a bite to eat...I was always sure to give him a shiny gold piece that would keep him fed for a few days. He was a half elf too, only redheaded instead of my brown hair. Still, he reminded me of myself, and I didn’t want him going hungry.
I took a deep breath and the scent was immediately familiar. It was a heady mix of the food cooking in the back, the ale spilled on the ground, the wood of the walls soaked with the sea air, the slight musk of the swarthy sailors that would flood the tavern every time they landed, eager for some enjoyment. It wasn’t too busy, but there were a good amount of people in there. We found a table and sat down, Therion obviously drinking in the scenery, me relishing some of the memories coming into my mind, and also trying to ignore some others.
A barmaid came and took our order. The special was their lamb stew which was always a favorite of mine. I hoped it tasted the same as back then. We were waiting for our order when Therion stood up.
“I need to find the chamber pot, Adrik.” I nodded my understanding and he wandered off. As soon as he left the table, someone came up behind me.
“Are you gentlemen lonely tonight?” A male voice, honeyed with seduction, purred behind me. “Would you like some company?”
I turned and looked up. It was a male half-elf, long red hair, tender green eyes, and a face that I recognized, however aged some.
“Adrik, is that you?” He jolted with surprise. “It’s me, Gathin!”
The boy I used to slip gold to had grown into a beautiful young man. And he had obviously found steady work doing what I used to.
“Well hello,” I was genuinely surprised, but happy to see him. “Sit down, it’s been a long time!”
He beamed at seeing me again. “I didn’t know you were in town again. I saw that man you’re with. You’re not...working, are you?”
I looked down and chuckled. “No, he’s a friend.” It stung a little that he thought I was still in the life, but he didn’t know any better. “I’m an adventurer now. I’m just in town getting a little side work on the farms outside the city walls.”
“Is that so?” Gathin seemed impressed. “That’s great! I’ve thought about other things I could be doing but this seems to be what I’m good at.” He looked down, a twinge of shame in his eye. “At least I can feed myself, I suppose. I might start working at one of the houses soon. Better than trolling the taverns, you know? Safer.”
“True. I really hope that works out for you.” I gently took his hand. “I always wanted you to be okay, you know? I’m glad you’re still kicking around.”
He looked me in the eyes with gratitude. “There were many times when you made a difference for me, I want you to know. I’ve never forgotten that.”
“GATHIN!” I heard a loud, booming voice that sent chills down my spine. I instantly recognized that voice.
“Oh, I have to go,” Gathin looked worried. “It’s a regular of mine. He’s a mean one but he always gives me good coin.” He stood and so did I. He embraced me tight. “It’s so good to see you. Hopefully we can catch up more before you leave the city.”
“I’d like tha—” I was cut off by a big, ugly half-orc stomping up. Greenish tanned skin, sparse hair on top, one big tusk, the other tusk broken off to a jagged point, beady black eyes that were filled with piss and vinegar. I recognized him, that hideous, ugly beast dressed in a loose white shirt and tight leathers, a calling horn on one side of his belt. On the other, a shiny cutlass. It was Wark the Stormbringer. He was once one of my regulars too.
“Gathin! There you are! I’ve been—” His gaze turned to be and his eyes narrowed. “Well, lookit who we have here.” A sneering grin spread across his disgusting face. “Well, well, Adrik, I never thought you’d show your face around here. The last time I saw you, you robbed me blind. Stole 200 gold from me.”
I let out a laugh that was more scared than humorous. “Hello Wark, didn’t think you’d still be alive, That was ten years ago, after all.”
“Oh I’m still alive, and I think you owe me.” He grabbed me by the arm, hard, his clawed grip digging into my flesh, his voice a cruel growl. “I think you owe me a few things.”
“I owe you nothing, arsehole.” I tried to twist myself from his grasp, getting more forceful. “Let me go, you’re hurting me!” I spat in his face. “Fuck you! Let me go!”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Wark let out a positively evil guffaw. “You remember it! I like it when you fight a little!”
“What’s going on here?!” Therion’s voice boomed from behind me. “Let him go!”
“Who’s this?” Wark’s eyes narrowed, focusing in on my companion who was closing the gap. “Is this who’s buying your arse tonight?”
Therion suddenly appeared by my side and grabbed hold of Wark’s wrist, breaking the orc’s grasp on me and twisting the claw into a submission hold. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Therion’s voice was controlled but still boiled with rage.
Wark shook off Therion’s grasp easily and took a step back. “Who the fuck do you think you are? I own this dock. I’ll have what I please!”
Wark balled his fist and took a wide swing at Therion, which he easily ducked. Therion rose up sharply, headbutting the orc in the jaw, then spun sharply, swinging an elbow into Wark’s temple. The orc was staggered, and Therion used that to his advantage. He kicked his knee up, landing a vicious gut shot. Wark doubled over, his breath lost. Therion brought both of his clinched fists together and brought them down forcefully on the back of Wark’s head, finally knocking the goliath unconscious and collapsing his big body on the floor.
The barmaid walked up, nonchalant. “Well, then, about time someone did that lout in. He’s deserved it for years!” She set two plates of stew down on the table as two barmen came to drag Wark’s limp body outside. “Now, y’ready to eat?”
--
We were back at the boarding house, and Therion had used some of this pay to get us a private room, figuring that we needed some privacy after the night at the tavern. Therion hadn’t said anything to me after leaving the tavern. I hadn’t said anything either.
He requested the innkeep upgrade us to a private room and suggested that this might be our last night here. I wanted to protest but it happened so quick. I just went along with it. He must have thought I caused too much trouble to stick around in this city. It was for the best.
I sat on the bed on the left, he on the right. He was looking at me, I could feel it. I couldn’t look up to meet his gaze. He must have been furious at me. I suddenly was that scared young boy again, when Cale would get so angry at me for not bringing back enough coin, screaming at me that I needed to pickpocket more unsuspecting tourists, sneak around more merchant stalls, entice more horny men...I felt myself shake a little. I wanted to break out into a sob. I didn’t, though. I never cried anymore. Never.
“Adrik…” His soft baritone wandered into my ears. I felt my ear points shiver.
“I’m sorry,” I cut him off with a shaky hushed tone. “I’m sorry I caused trouble. I’m sorry I ruined our time here. I should have known.” I swallowed. Hard. My head collapsed into my hands. “We can leave in the morning. You must be so embarrassed. I’m sorry.”
I finally peeked at Therion, stealing a glance at his face. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look furious. He looked...sad, worried. I immediately felt worse.
“Are you alright?” His voice was even, no pique of rage at all. It was tender, kind. I’ve heard that tone before. It was a tone he always used with people we defended, people we rescued. Was I just another rescue to him?
I inhaled sharply, immediately steeling myself while taking off my tight leather jacket. “I’m fine. I’ve fought off meaner and uglier.” I went to take my overshirt off and revealed a nasty bruise on my arm where Wark had grabbed me. Guess he grabbed me harder than I thought.
Therion gasped a little. “You’re hurt…” He got up off of his bed and came over, kneeling in front of me to look at the bruise, tenderly touching me. “Did he pierce the skin?”
I jerked the arm away from him. “I said I’m fine.” I said roughly. “I don’t need your pity, Therion.”
I looked at him and saw his eyes drop. My words wounded him, I could tell.
“Is that what you think of me?” He whispered. “That I pity you? That I think so little of you?”
I was confounded. “What?”
He looked up at me, his eyes starting to well up. “Adrik, I saw him...I saw him hurting you. I thought he was going to—”
“Don’t you care what he was saying?” I was so confounded. “You heard that, right?”
“I did…”
“He used to...I used to do so many ugly things, Therion. I whored. I stole. I did both with him, to him.” I dropped my guard. “I promise, it has been years since I’ve done anything like that. But what I did back then...I did what I had to in order to survive.”
“I don’t doubt that, Adrik.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to do such awful things.”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. It was the first time I shed a tear in many, many years. “Don’t you care about what I did? I did horrible, ugly things. I’m a thief. I’m a murderer. I’m a whore.” More tears came. “Don’t you care?”
“And don’t you realize that was in the far past?” Therion pushed back. “You have done so many good things since I’ve known you, Adrik. So many good things.” He let out a quiet laugh. “You don’t think I noticed when you slipped that older couple some coin back there in Turmish? A bad person wouldn’t have done that.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve always been so ugly. Everyone’s told me that since I was a child. I’ve done so many ugly things.” I was crying now. Tears poured down my face. “My face, my body, my soul...I’m so ugly, Therion. So, so ugly.”
I felt his hand come up to my face. It cradled my jaw and he used his thumb to wipe away a tear. “You’re beautiful, Adrik.”
I looked up and stared in his eyes. He had a gentle smile. Kind. Loving.
“Therion…” I was stunned. He called me beautiful.
“Your face, it’s beautiful. Such full lips, such high cheeks, such a strong jaw and such dreamlike eyes.” His voice was like a melody. “Your body...I’ve seen you bathe, I’ve watched you. I couldn’t help it. Your body is at once lithe and sturdy. It looks so wonderful both in combat and at rest, and so many nights I’ve wanted to hold you in my arms. Your soul...your soul is the most beautiful of them all, so hurt but still so confident, so kind, generous, thoughtful...” He went back to a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”
I looked in his eyes and he looked in mine. Moments passed. It was unspoken but we knew. Both of us knew.
Therion leaned in and I closed my eyes. I felt the warmth of his beard nuzzle into my face and his plump lips press against mine. I slowly opened my mouth to accept his kiss. I couldn’t help but to whimper when I tasted his tongue, so tender and soft. I could feel his heart and soul in this kiss.
He removed his jacket and tossed it to the side. He lay me back on my bed and slid beside me, still kissing, wrapping his big arms around me. He held and kissed me, cradled me with his big hairy body, that big hairy body I saw at the spring. I pressed my body up against his, as close as it would go, breathing his breath in, legs intertwining, arms so tight around each other’s body.
Eventually our kiss broke. Therion rubbed his beard around my face. His lips found my forehead in a soft kiss, and we lay there. We both fell asleep that way.
--
I awoke just before sun up, first thinking I was a young man again. I was waking up in the arms of a man who paid me for the evening. For a moment, I peered around the room, looking for his coin purse, looking how I could sneak out with it, looking for my getaway. I glanced down at the big arms holding me and for a split second I looked to see how I could escape his tight grasp and slink out.
Then I saw the familiarity of the strong, hairy arms around me, saw how they were holding me gently and firmly. Then I felt his beard nuzzle closer into my neck, his sweet breath warming my sensitive skin. Then I felt him shift his big, broad body closer to me, bringing his heat in the cool morning sea breeze that was making the thin curtains dance in the opened window.
It was Therion. It wasn’t a dream. He was holding me, cradling me like I was something or someone who needed care, who needed to feel safe. I was safe. I was safe.
I slowly turned my body to face him. He laid with his head on the pillow, dreamy smile on his face. He slowly opened his eyes and found my gaze. “There’s my beautiful.”
I melted into the pillow. I nuzzled my face up against his beard and found his lips with mine. He kissed me softly, easily, and I returned it. It was a lazy kiss, lips parting, mouths opening, tongues slowly lapping at each other. It was a comfortable kiss that warmed my soul.
Therion’s hands started tracing my backbone, up and down. He started waking up and his kiss became more focused, more passionate, more needy. My hands instinctively went to his chest, running my fingers through the thick pelt on his chest. It was pleasantly fluffy and I wanted to feel it on my face.
I felt his big meaty paws slide down my back and cup the curve of my round, firm ass, squeezing and kneading. He pulled me in closer to him. I felt his mighty penis throbbing to a thick, stiff erection and mine was plumping up as well. I couldn’t help but to think, this is what I’ve dreamt about. This was what I so desperately wanted. He ground his big cock into mine and groaned as his rotated his hips.
Normally this is when I would go into performance mode. I would go down, lick his nipples, suck his balls and his cock for a good long while. If he wanted to finish in my mouth, I’d let him (and then discretely spit out the evidence) or if he wanted to fuck me, I’d let him. But with Therion it was more primal, the need was too great. I slid my leg up his thigh and split my cheeks open slightly to allow Therion’s thick fingers to start sliding in the cleft of my arse and finding the sweet puckered entrance to my hole. I needed him. I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted anyone.
His finger entered me and I threw my head back in a gasp. His bearded mouth immediately found my neck and continued kissing and licking my smooth skin. First one, then two, the more he slid his fingers in and out of my quivering arsehole, the more I wanted. I started involuntarily bucking backwards to meet his penetration. “Please…” I whispered urgently. “P-please Therion…”
I was ready and I could tell he was too. His hefty prick was drooling a steady stream of precum on my inner thigh and I knew it wanted to be inside me. I reached back, took his hand away, and scooted my body upward so I could get his penis under me and ready to fuck.
I thought I was ready. I knew he was thick, but I had taken thicker. His cock was perfect for me, though. Perfect girth, perfect curve. Did it have to go slow as he popped his flared out helmet in? Yes, I had to get accustomed to the stretch of my hole. Was it worth it when, as he sank in, I felt it push across that sweet nut on the inside? Absolutely. It sent shock waves through my body and I let out a whimper when it happened.
I would normally push the man over on his back, treating him to a sweet ride, doing all the work for his maximum pleasure, or at least that’s how I used to do it. Paying clientele, after all. But the look in Therion’s eyes, the urgent way he rolled me on my back, heaving his furred body onto mine, I could tell he was desperate to pump and pound.
And he did! It was slow at first, all the while staring into my eyes, monitoring for any discomfort. He must have been used to his lovers needing some time to get used to the fuck, but as he saw that I was only getting pleasure from his efforts, he started to go a little harder, a little deeper, a little faster. He let himself go a little more wild, a little more primal, a little more feral. He collapsed his sweaty body onto mine, my legs up and apart, allowing him to do what he needed to do, to make love to me and savor my body. His face dove into the nape of my neck. He chewed on my shoulder. He grunted and panted, reminiscent of an animal in the throes of breeding his mate.
Therion growled in my ear. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” “I’ve wanted you so badly.” “Now I have you.” “Gods, you feel so good.” “Never leave me.”
“You’re so beautiful, Adrik.” That one caught me off guard. “So, so beautiful.”
I was experiencing my mind shattering and bursting the entire time, it was all I could do to keep sane through all the beatitudes that Therion was spilling out of his mouth and the deep probing that his fat, hefty cock was giving my tender arsehole. His broad battering ram of a cockhead was thumping against my spot inside over and over and driving me to a body wrecking climax when I was finally able to form words right before I went over the edge.
“Therion, I—I love you.”
For a moment before my explosion, I saw Therion’s face, so mixed with ecstasy and bliss and relief and momentousness and right then, right then I heard it.
“Oh Adrik, I love you. I love you!” Then he had the audacity to cum moments before I did, invoking the name of his god. “Here I-- Oh my Lord Lathander!!”
Therion let out a bellow so deep and fierce that it could have been from a wild animal pierced by an arrow from a hunter. His head reared back and I feel his cock have hard, strong contractions in my beaten up insides. I felt his thick, gooey wads fire off inside me. It seemed as if it would never end—he must have unloaded a waterskin full of hot spunk inside me.
While my lover was mid-orgasm, it was my turn. My head involuntarily tensed and raised up off the bed and I let out a cry as, hands free, I let out ropes of milk-white sperm, gluing Therion’s belly hair to my skin. I shook, I shivered, I quivered, and Therion held me tight, breathing heavy, immobilized by his coming down from the heights of his pleasure.
When I could move again, it occurred to me that this is where I would usually feel shame at my ugly act, shame from taking a strange man’s cum inside me, shame in what I have done for a quick coin, and shame for what I was about to do, stealing the man’s purse while he took an after-fuck piss. But all I could feel is the reassuring weight of Therion’s body collapsed, half on me, half off, and his gentle pecks upon my cheek as he whispered “My gods, my gods…”
I turned my face to his and looked at his eyes, filled with exhaustion and bliss. I tilted my head inwards and I kissed him deep. I pulled back and I couldn’t help myself but to say something.
“I love you.”
His lips formed into a silly, happy grin. “I’ve been waiting so long to hear that from you.” His eyes started to well up. “I love you too. So, so much. You beautiful, beautiful man.”
I lay my head upon his chest. For the first time in my life, I felt beautiful.
--
We slept a few more hours, entangled in each other’s arms and legs, the afterglow of our lovemaking, then we got up. We washed each other tenderly, using the wash basin provided in the room, and dressed, stealing kisses from each other all the while. It was when we had put on our boots and exited the boarding house did we finally start talking in earnest.
“I’m prepared to leave this city if you want, Adrik.” Therion earnestly stated. “I understand if you’re worried about what happened.”
I shook my head. “Honestly, I remember how Wark was and if he’s still the same, that will leave him with his tail between his legs for quite some time. Anyway, stay or leave, I should probably track Gathin down and make sure he’s okay.”
“That might be a good idea.” Therion nodded. “Okay then, after that. Should we stay? Should we hit the road? Move on to another city? Track down a cave? Hunt an owlbear? Take down an evil wizard?” I rose an eyebrow at his increasingly outlandish ideas. He simply gave me one of his signature wide, goofy grins. “Slay a dragon?”
That got a slight chuckle from me, as I walked so close to him that I gave him a slight bump with my body. “I dunno, to be honest. I do know that we need to work hard, whatever we do. As you say, Therion. ‘We’re trash, Adrik, but someday we’ll be treasure!’ “
I felt Therion’s hand reach out to mine and grasp it lightly, lovingly. “Adrik, I believe you already are. You’re my treasure. I love you.”
I looked at him and saw the sincere smile he gave me. He was so beautiful.
This is a relatively new genre. Before, pretty much all YA fantasy books are heavy on the romance, but that's becoming more popular in adult, creating fantasy romance as a genre. I read mostly queer fantasy romance. Unfortunately, there aren't many traditionally published ones yet, I think the top rowin the left picture is all of them (if there are any I didn't know of, please let met know). I've excluded sci-fi romance for this post (which is why Winter's Orbit isn't here).
In indie books, I think there are some more, but I'm not super familiar with the indie market. The bottom three in the left picture are all indie books that also come in paperback (many are ebook only and I don't have an ereader). Most of these books I have talked about before but not all of them.
A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland
This is a prince/bodyguard romance set in a kingdom inspired by the Ottoman empire. Kadou is the queen's younger brother, and after a mistake puts him in a bad situation with his sister and the body father of her child, he has to help her uncover a conspiracy to do with forged money.
He gets a new bodyguard, which in this case has both the task of being a guard and being a personal attendant. Evemer hates Kadou at first. He's very duty bound and thinks Kadou does not take his duties as prince seriously.
But they will have to trust each other if they want to get to the bottom of that forged money conspiracy.
Evemer is a very stoic guy. He doesn't talk much. He can go entire days only saying 'Yes, my prince' 'no, my prince' or simply 'my prince' when he tries to convey he is annoyed or disagrees.
Kadou has very well written anxiety, and deals with this in numerous ways, including at first drinking far too much wine to dull his fears. Evemer is at first very judgemental, but over time he comes to understand Kadou better.
There's lots of discussion of ethics in this book, partially to establish how a relationship between them could happen without there being a power imbalance because of it.
Also by this author: several self published books, in 2024 comes their next trad published book, Running Close to the Wind, which is a queer pirate book pitches as Our Flag Means Death x Six of Crows
A Marvellous Light & a Restless Truth by Freya Marske I've already talked about several time
And yet I'm going to do it again. I love the each book features a different couple structure and I'd love to see this more often. It's a great way to have many different major characters but also give all of them their moment to shine and have properly development instead of trying to balance three romances in the same book.
The overarching plot in the trilogy has to do with the conspiracy Robin and Edwin begin to uncover in the first book, something that threatens all magicians of england.
A Marvellous Light features a himbo x librarian m/m couple. They're the softest, sweetest couple of the three in the trilogy to be sure, and I'm planning to reread soon.
A Restless Truth features a sapphic rake x wallflower couple. They're both very chaotic, and I love Maud's energy, as well as the whole sexual awakening arc she has in here, which is so funny.
The third as of yet unpublished book is a Power Unbound, featuring a couple that I think is grump x sunshine but in a asshole x asshole way and it sounds like it's going to be amazing so definitely keep an eye out for that one coming November.
A Strange and Stubborn Endurance by Foz Meadows
This is one I don't think I've talked about before. Before reading this, definitely check the content warnings. There's a pretty graphic rape scene very early in the book, as well as several moments of suicidal ideation. That said, this is a healing story, and the character this happens to is doing a lot better when the story ends.
Vel is a prince who ends up in an arranged marriage to a noble girl from a different kingdom. When his preference for men is revealed in a pretty awful way, his family is ready to disown him. But the envoy of his betrothed's family had a better idea, marry his former intended's brother instead.
But before Vel arrives at the castle of his betrothed, he is attacked and nearly killed by assassins who clearly do not want his marriage to take place.
When attacks keep happening after Vel and Cae have gotten married, they will have to rely on each other to figure out what's going.
I love queer arranged marriages in stories, like in Winter's Orbit, so I was super excited when I first found out about this book. This book ends with everything wrapped up, but there is a sequel coming out this December. Unfortunately, that's still pretty far away, but there has been a cover reveal and blurb. The sequel will feature the same main characters.
Then to the indie books
Prince of the Sorrows and Lord of Silver Ashes
These are the first two books in the Rowan Blood series, which the author intends to be an eight book series in total. But since it's an indie series and the author is a pretty fast writer, they come pretty fast after one another. The first one came out last March, and the second one October, and the author released a different book this February. The next book in this series is schedule for late spring somewhere.
This series is set in a fae world, with a parallel historical human world we don't see much of.
Saffron is a beantighe, which is a human servant who is raised in the fae world after his parents made a deal with the fae. His patron sends all these children back to the human world once they become too old, but Saffron wants nothing more to stay in the fae world. To do that, he'll need an academic endorsement from a fae so he can stay and study.
When he accidentally finds out the true name of prince Cylvan, the two strike a deal, Saffron will help him find a way to remove the power on his true name, and Cylvan will give Saffron an endorsement. The only problem is, Saffron has no clue what he's doing and barely taught himself to read.
In the meantime, beantighes are getting killed one after another by a mysterious person known as "the wolf" and it will be up to Saffron to stop the killer, because no one else will.
The first book ends on a cliffhanger, but the second is a bit more wrapped up so I'm not sure what's going to happen in the next book since there will definitely be more. Fortunately, the wait is not super long, but the release date and covers are released much later than for trad publishing
Last is the Fox & the Dryad by Kellen Graves
This book is set in the same world as the Rowan Blood series, but it is a standalone in the modern time period.
Briar is a ballet dancer, and while he enchants many people on the stage, he cannot get the attention of the one person they really want to notice them. So they strike a deal with a fae lady, if he can perform one perfect dance she'll make him the most enchanting thing on two legs. Of course, a dance is never perfect and now he's stuck dancing for the fae lady whenever she asks him too, despite him getting worn out and injured from it.
Malric is the son of said fae lady and used to be a dancer himself. All his siblings are artists and their mother abuses their talents to entertain people at her revels, all at their cost. Malric left, but he finds out his mother struck a deal with Briar, who is now his replacement. Malric wants to rescue Briar, and tries to help him posing as his new dance teacher in the human world as well as a mysterious masked fey lord at the revels. But then he starts developing feelings for Briar, and he has to ask himself if what he's doing is really helping him.
This book takes place a lot more in the human world than the main Rowan Blood series, which ballet playing a big role which I think was done really well. Briar is a masc enby and uses he/they pronouns, and use alters through the book. I think this is the author's best book so far and if you're not looking to get invested in a long unfinished series yet I would try this one first and maybe start Rowan Blood afterwards.
I'll probably do trans characters next as the Wicked Bargain has arrived and I'll start reading it tomorrow
I'm writing again. After taking a years long pause... I'm trying to get back into writing. Finished my first story in 5 years and would love to post it. Is it even worth posting here?
Also I lost 170 lbs (still got about 50-60 lbs to go) and look like this now.
My uncle, before he died, but after I came out to him, wanted me to know our history and what the gay scene in London was like in the 80s and 90s. He taught me a few sentences in Polari in case I ever needed them, and some words are just in my regular lexicon now. I thought it was very sweet that it was important to him that I understand and can recognize words that will protect me and lead me to my community. Thank you for these articles!
The Conversation article had a line that killed me instantly.
“While few gay men today actively use Polari, in recent years it has gained a kind of latent respectability as an historic language – similar to the way Latin is seen by the Catholic faith.”
I don’t know why but this word order is just hootingly funny to me. Thank you
