Broomsticks and Stones

by Jane Davitt

  Speech was impossible. Peter shook his head, stared across the room at a truly hideous rendition of the Lost Prince's execution, shuddered and averted his eyes.

  "Then be on your way,” Jamie said. Peter nodded and began to get out of bed, but Jamie's hand curled around his shoulder. “You're forgetting something."

  "What?” Peter asked.

  "I've given you bed and board again,” Jamie said. “Even if you've not touched your breakfast and there's me carrying it up three flights of stairs."

  "Thank you,” Peter said. “But I don't see—"

  "You don't want your kiss?” Jamie asked. “And I can't promise it's going to be just friendly."

  Jamie leaned forward and Peter shook his head. “Don't—"

  "Please?” Jamie whispered, his mouth right there to be kissed. “Peter, lad; please?"

  Peter didn't remember deciding to do it, but his hands came up and cupped Jamie's face, bringing Jamie closer. Jamie let him control the kiss and let him end it, but Jamie's mouth was eager under Peter's and his hands were tight fists as he kept them by his sides, doing no more than kiss Peter.

  "Tell me?” Jamie said, not moving away.

  "Why aren't you angry with me? Disgusted by my cowardice? Why are you being so damn nice to me?” Peter said.

  The silence was jammed full of words that Peter could feel, pressing against him, but couldn't hear. Not with his ears, anyway.

  "You're talking nonsense,” Jamie said finally. “Dying, you took that bloody gem and tried to save me from having to touch it; how is that being a coward?"

  "I couldn't do it,” Peter said, pushing back the covers and struggling up to his knees, facing Jamie. “Even then, at the end.... I still couldn't transform. That proves it."

  "Proves what?” Jamie asked angrily.

  "That I'm not your equal. Less. Weak, a failure—” Peter shook his head. “God, just pick one. I won't mind which."

  "One in a thousand can transform,” Jamie said slowly. “Less than that can do it properly and hold the change for any length of time. You're choosing an odd way of defining a failure. If you can't do it, then you can't."

  "I think we both know that I could,” Peter said. “I'm just—scared."

  "You think that you're scared,” Jamie corrected him. “I don't think you are. Not really."

  "Could we skip over the sympathy and get to the part where you let me—"

  "Fly away?"

  Peter felt the pain of that dig deep. “You didn't have to say that,” he said, the words flat and bitter. “God, Jamie—"

  "Look at the window."

  "What?” Bewildered, Peter glanced over at it; an unremarkable pane of glass shrouded in even more pink satin, dimming the sunlight. “What about it?"

  "On the floor."

  Peter stared at the carpet under the window and saw a scatter of—"Feathers?"

  "Aye,” Jamie said, nodding his head. “Yours."

  "What?” Peter felt a wave of dizziness. He was remembering something now ... his hands tangled in something thick and heavy, the air calling to him from behind a barrier he couldn't break with beak or talon—with what? “I transformed? No; it's not possible!"

  Jamie stood and went over to the window, returning with three feathers in his hand. He placed them on the quilt where they lay lightly, wild and fierce against the lush opulence of the silk, all golden-brown speckles with the blunt shaft an opaque ivory.

  "You're breathtaking, you know that?” Jamie said, his fingertip stroking one of the feathers slowly, furling its rough edge smooth. “You cried out for freedom, with your eyes blazing, and I wanted to set you loose and watch you soar, but I couldn't risk it. Not with you not knowing what you were doing.” Jamie rolled back his sleeve, exposing a deep gash. “You didn't like me capturing you, but I had no choice."

  "I did that?” Peter whispered, reaching out to halt Jamie as he began to cover his wound. “I didn't mean to—but Jamie, I can't remember!"

  "Next time you will,” Jamie said with a certainty Peter was far from feeling. “And next time we'll do it outside, the two of us, with the forest around us and the sky open and waiting for you."

  "Jamie—"

  "I want that. Just once, and then you can go if you've a mind to,” Jamie said, his voice steady and his hand warm against Peter's face. “Running with the snow crunching under my hooves and the beat of your wings overhead. You'll know I'm there, and I'll bring you back, never fear."

  Peter searched Jamie's face, seeing the strain he was hiding. “Something's still bothering you,” Peter said.

  Jamie threw back his head and growled, his calm facade shattering. “You've done nothing but talk about leaving since I walked in! Of course I'm bothered by something.” He took a deep breath and scowled at Peter who was grinning. “What?"

  "You're just so—” Peter shook his head. “You'd make a terrible lawyer, you know that?"

  "Are you trying to sweet-talk me? Because there's better ways to do it than that."

  "I'm trying to tell you that you're hopeless at hiding anything you feel,” Peter said. He purposely made his smile smug. “Whereas I'm trained to be unfathomable and reserved."

  "Are you hell,” Jamie said indignantly. “Why, it's plain as day what you want."

  Peter gazed at Jamie, his smile vanishing, his thoughts as focused as he could make them. “Then why aren't you giving it to me?"

  The feathers spun to the floor in lazy spirals as Jamie lunged across the bed and kissed Peter hard. “There,” he panted a few minutes later when their mouths parted. “Now ask for something else while I'm in a generous mood."

  "More kisses?” Peter murmured. “Less clothes?” He tugged hard at Jamie's sweater.

  "I can do that, but, Peter—"

  "I'll stay,” Peter told him, knowing what he'd been about to ask.

  Jamie closed his eyes and then opened them, staring at Peter. “I need to know why,” he said. “If it's just because you know that you can transform now, well, that's plain foolishness."

  "It's not that,” Peter said. He reconsidered and amended it. “It's not just that."

  "I'm not sure,” Jamie said stubbornly. “You were all for packing your bags and leaving me before you found out. If you really wanted to stay, it shouldn't have mattered to you. It didn't to me."

  "And that's why I'm staying,” Peter said.

  "Because it didn't matter?"

  Peter nodded, eying Jamie cautiously.

  Jamie groaned in surrender, pushing his hand through his hair. “You're one hell of a puzzle, you know that?"

  "And do you like puzzles?” Peter asked.

  Jamie grinned. “I cheat and look at the answers.” His smile softened and his hand traced across Peter's forehead. “Does that bother you? That we're so open to each other?"

  "I think I could get used to it in time,” Peter said.

  * * * *

  The wind spilled from the curve of his wings, cool and sweet. Crying out in exultant triumph the hawk plummeted down, seeking his prey, keen eyes alert.

  You'll regret eating that when you change back, love

  Wings beating hard, the hawk swerved and landed on a tree trunk, a small mouse skittering through dead leaves to safety.

  I'm hungry

  The stag walked over to him, heavy muscles working to make every movement graceful.

  Change and we can eat

  Peter shook off the hawk form and smiled up at Jamie, naked in the spring sunlight. “It was glorious up there today."

  "Aye,” Jamie said, rubbing his hand affectionately over the slim trunk of a silver birch. “Everything's waking up."

  "So I see,” Peter said, staring at Jamie with a smile.

  "You'll take anything I say in reply and use it to seduce me, won't you?” Jamie said.

  "Oh, yes,” Peter replied.

  "Shall I save you the trouble and point out that the picnic blanket is spread out and waiting and I'd as soon fuck you on it as eat whatever's in the bas
ket? Or am I too easy?"

  Peter linked their hands and walked through the soft, new shoots of grass and bluebells to the blanket. “If you didn't want me, I'd be—oh, pick a word."

  "Sad?” Jamie suggested, his mouth warm on Peter's shoulder as he kissed it.

  "Devastated,” Peter corrected him.

  "Well, we can't have that..."

  They sank down onto the blanket, kissing with a slow urgency, love and need combining with the exhilaration of transforming and the restless stir of the season. Peter rolled to his back, staring up at the sunlight filtered through the unfurling leaves, watching it touch Jamie's hair with gold.

  Not his season yet, but he reached out for the sunlight and spun it around them, making each brush of fingers on skin leave a tingle of heat and magic.

  "I want you above me,” Jamie said into Peter's ear, the words barely needing to be spoken after months together. “Want to watch you fly, my summer hawk."

  "You in me?” Peter asked, smiling at Jamie's name for him, as he always did.

  "Aye...” Jamie replied, turning to his side and letting Peter rise to his knees. “Ride me."

  "The last time I did, I was bruised for days,” Peter said teasingly, pushing Jamie to his back and moving between his legs. “Promise to stay human?"

  As he bent his head and took Jamie's cock in his mouth, the only response was a moan, heartfelt and appreciative, but it was enough. Drawing him in deeply, Peter brought Jamie to the point of writhing, the blanket crumpled beneath him as his hands clenched around it and then passed over Peter's head and shoulders.

  "Please...” Jamie whispered finally, the plea echoing inside Peter's head. “No more..."

  Releasing him, Peter smiled down at Jamie, a somewhat shaky smile, because he couldn't do that to Jamie without his own arousal intensifying to the point where he was as close to coming as Jamie.

  "I'm not done with you yet,” Peter said.

  "Well, I'd hope not,” Jamie murmured, recovering his composure a little. His cock glistened, wet and hard and Peter ran his finger down it, watching Jamie shudder.

  "Watch,” he said, cupping sunlight again. It was getting easier to do this every time, power he'd never thought to possess his for the taking. He spun the light into liquid and turned his hand over, letting it drip like honey onto Jamie's waiting, wanting cock.

  "Ahh...” Jamie exhaled through gritted teeth. “That feels..."

  "Good?” Peter smoothed his palm over the rigid heat and moved to straddle Jamie.

  "Aye, but it'd feel better were I inside you."

  Peter gave Jamie a mischievous grin, wriggling into position and pushing down just enough to allow Jamie to slip inside him a bare inch. “Say ‘please'."

  Jamie growled, soft and dangerous, and gripped Peter's hips, holding him still. “Say ‘thank you,'” Jamie replied and arched upwards, sheathing himself in Peter in one swift thrust and sending Peter soaring.

  * * *

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