Tam Lin: A Modern, Queer Retelling (Faerie Tales)

by T. J. Deschamps

  Fergus led the group further into the woods, carrying on the tour with film facts and random Irish legends while they walked as if he hadn’t warned Tom to run and seek shelter in a nearby village. He decided that Fergus had been pranking him and didn’t like that it hadn’t worked. The big Scot seemed over it and jovial, except none of his smiles reached those sad, blue eyes.

  Aoife took her time, and she and Tom fell further behind until the group was completely out of sight. “Don’t worry,” she cooed. “I know exactly where Fergus is taking them.”

  They came to an interesting point where two trees bent toward each other, making a natural arch. The branches were so intertwined that it was hard to tell what branch belonged to which tree.

  An inexplicable feeling of foreboding came over Tom and he found himself halting just before the trees. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and his skin pillared in gooseflesh. He glanced behind him. The air had chilled and a light fog had settled, swallowing any landmarks that might show him the way back. His phone had a satellite map, but he’d left it back at the tour guides’ house.

  “Just through here is a wild rose patch. It’s where they filmed Tam Lin making love to Janet.” Aoife looked at him through her pale lashes. She licked her pale, pink lips and toyed with the strings of his shirt. “I was hoping we could do a little reenactment while Fergus gave his part of the tour.” She let go of his arm and passed through the arch, taking her warmth with her.

  Watching the hem of her kilt swishing in the back, Tom forgot his fear and followed Aoife through the arch. His skin tingled a bit, but he was already so stimulated he hardly noticed.

  The wild rose patch was something out of a fairytale, beautiful and fragrant. The spot was indeed secluded. Aoife picked roses scattering the petals on the ground. Tom copied her. They paused in their task only to kiss and explore each other’s bodies.

  At some point, Tom lifted Aoife’s shirt over her head. Her chest was full, heaving with her every breath. He could see her nipples through a pink lace bra. He cupped one and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking through the lace. She guided his other hand to her slick, wet folds. He played with her pearl and dipped his fingers inside in turns, eliciting moans.

  She flipped his kilt and slowly, teasingly stroked his erection. Not doing enough to give him a release, but enough to maintain his arousal.

  Tom loved looking at her, the way her head tilted and lips parted. He liked the noises she made. He wanted more than this with Aoife. He wanted to hold her and get to know what she was like. He wanted her to smile at him and tease him. He wanted her to come back to the states with him.

  “You are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen,” he said because he couldn’t say all the things he was imagining.

  She smiled in answer.

  It didn’t take long before she was shuddering and soaking his fingers.

  Tom put his fingers in his mouth, tasting her while holding her with his other arm.

  “Oh, you’re much more talented than your kin,” Aoife cooed, getting on her knees. She caressed his length, licking her lips. “An unselfish lover is hard to find in a human man these days. No wonder Ariel loves you. He was a fool to let you go. I won’t make the same mistake.” She took him in her mouth.

  If he’d had any kind of sense, Tom would have paid more attention to her words and less to what Aoife did to his body. He found himself drunk on the smell of roses, Aoife’s softness, and the wet heat of her mouth, the tightness of her throat as she took all of him. Her delicate fingers glided down the sensitive flesh between his balls and ass until they were buried inside him, massaging in just the right spot. At the same time, she swallowed around him, pushing Tom over the edge. His balls tightened and he felt a prick at the base of his spine, just before he released. He gripped her hair. Staring into her pretty eyes, he came in hot spurts into her throat.

  Tom sank to his knees, cupping Aoife’s face and kissing her. They fell together onto the rose petals, starting all over.

  7

  Tom woke to the sound of voices, one a low and angry growl and the other a soft and teasing lilt.

  “No matter. He loves me and I him.” A hand brushed over his forehead, gentle and loving. “He loves you too. We make his sad heart light. Please, let’s keep him and marry him under the harvest moon. She’ll never have to know.”

  Tom and Aoife had explored more positions and ways of love making in a matter of hours than he’d had in his entire life. His stamina had lasted as long as she desired him and it wasn’t until they spooned and she’d drifted off, that he’d finally lost his erection completely. He’d fallen asleep drunk on all the things they’d done to and for each other. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been sad; there was only Aoife and the way she made him feel.

  Fergus sighed, all anger leaving his tone. “Aoife, my darling, my precious, if ye love him, lets return him to the mortal realm. Ye ken as well as I that he’ll die here. It is fated so. I can bear it, but I canna bear yer soft heart broken again.”

  After a long pause, Aoife relented, “Let’s wake him and share him, my love. Then we shall return him to the mortal realm.”

  “But he’s awake already.”

  Tom let his eyes flutter open and sat up between naked Aoife and fully dressed Fergus. Fergus’s big hand cupped his cheek. He leaned over and pressed his lips, full and strong to Tom’s. Fire burned through him as Fergus’s tongue slid into his mouth and the big man pressed his hard body into him. While Aoife’s kisses had been sultry and sweet, her husband kissed with a fierce sort of passion that consumed Tom with desire.

  Tom gripped the big Scot by the nape, fisting that silky dark hair as he sucked on Fergus’s tongue, suggesting what he wanted to do to him.

  “My oh my, isn’t that a pretty sight,” Aoife exclaimed, clapping in delight.

  Fergus reached for her, pulling her in.

  She joined the kiss, but only for a moment. Her soft mouth and kitten tongue lathed Tom’s neck, working down his body.

  He managed to shimmy Fergus’s shirt from his belted kilt. The two men only paused their kiss long enough to relieve the Scot of his shirt, sporran and kilt. Where Aoife was soft and supple, fleshy in the chest and backside, her husband was all long, lean lines of hardened muscle.

  Tom licked his lips, salivating over the honed perfection. Even his erection seemed the perfect proportions. God damn. What lottery had he won that these two would even give him a second look?

  He was a little shier about touching Fergus than Aoife, who pulled him in all warmth and welcome, eager to make love. The Scot had barriers that didn’t exist with his wife. Something held Fergus back from opening up to Tom.

  “Ye certain ye want this? Us?” Fergus asked, reticence evident in his tone.

  Aoife stopped her ministrations and sat up, face sobering.

  Tom nodded emphatically. “Yes.”

  Aoife looked to Fergus, who grinned. She kissed Tom full on the mouth tasting of him and herself. Fergus joined the kiss. Aoife backed off and watched, touching herself and turning Tom on just as much as when she joined. He tried to touch her, but she gently guided his hand to Fergus’s erection, and they stroked the length together. Her hand disappeared, leaving Tom to explore Fergus on his own.

  Fergus lowered Tom onto his back and used his knee to nudge Tom’s legs apart and maneuvering his big body between. He hovered over the smaller man, whispering, “Let go.”

  He edged so many times, but didn’t feel like releasing. He had a weird fear if he came before Fergus, he’d not live up to the man’s expectations. He felt the Scotts stiffen and came with the first burst of cum wetting both of them.

  Aoife clapped and kissed him. Fergus slid down his body, kissing and licking his way down until Tom grew hard again. The Scot took Tom in his mouth more easily than Aoife, and being a man, knew exactly what felt good.

  Aoife straddled Tom’s head.

  He was in heaven.

  The couple had silent si
gnals. After Aoife came, she slid down his body.

  Fergus’s rough hand positioned Tom’s cock to enter Aoife’s slick folds. The big Scot reached around and played with his wife’s clit, kissing her.

  The sight of voluptuous Aoife riding him while kissing her husband, whose cock nudged at Tom’s asshole, almost sent him over the edge again. She lifted up a bit. Fergus positioned his cock next to Tom’s holding them together with his massive hand.

  Aoife’s eyes rolled back in her head as she inched down, taking both men at once. Her back arched and she pulsed around both men, slicking them with her orgasm.

  Between her slickness and the friction of both of them now moving inside Aoife, it didn’t take long before he came again.

  She rolled off Tom, murmuring for Fergus to find his pleasure with the lad before falling asleep.

  Blue eyes locked onto Tom’s, Fergus put a massive hand under each knee and then buried himself. The mixture of pain and pleasure aroused Tom once again. Fergus was surprisingly sweet, pausing to kiss now and then, taking his time. He stiffened and the muscles of his neck strained as he cried out Tom’s name.

  Afterward, Fergus hovered over him, whispered something in a language Tom didn’t understand and then lowered his head until their lips met one more time, kissing tenderly and slow.

  Happiness swelled inside Tom. He found himself wanting this to be more than just once and he ached to his bones knowing it couldn’t be. He knew it was more than lust he felt for the two of them. The only thing that would make this moment more perfect was if Ariel was here. The thought of the four of them together aroused him again.

  The big Scot broke off the kiss. Fergus gazed into Tom’s eyes so deeply the latter thought he could see into the very core of him. “I’ve loved ye for centuries, not a day,” he whispered, a pained smile touching his lips. “At least in my head. My soul is not free, or I’d offer it to ye. It pains me to the core that this canna last. My heart and body is yers for the wee time that we got, Tom. Take me as ye will.”

  Something settled deep within Tom, as if the words were more than words.

  They switched positions. Tom took Fergus from behind, rough and hard, excited the stoic man had utterly submitted to him. Both men spent themselves once again, Tom fell asleep between the couple, an arm around each, wishing out loud that Ariel was with them and it could be this way forever.

  8

  Tom had barely closed his eyes when Aoife was suddenly ripped from him. He sat bolt upright and screamed in terror.

  Two hideous creatures, with long teeth and leathery, lizard-like skin dragged the kicking and screaming Aoife away. She clawed at their skin and bit one, drawing purple blood.

  Tom finally found his voice, and shouted, “Let her go!”

  The words were useless. The monsters paid him no attention.

  Fergus had already sprung to his feet, sword in hand. The blade in the warrior’s hand glowed with an unearthly light. A promise of death gleamed in the depths of his blue eyes, the anger limning his features, terrible. All traces of the easy-going tour guide were gone, replaced by a Highlander warrior of old.

  “Unhand my wife, foul beasties, or taste my wrath!” the Scot bellowed, but he went no further. The way Aoife thrashed, he was likely afraid of hurting his wife in the process of killing the creatures.

  “The queen has decreed she must be punished,” one of the lizard-folk hissed in a sibilant voice, “You’ve kept the kin of Tam Lin for yourself.”

  Tom rose to his feet, managing to wrap the kilt around him haphazardly. “If it’s me the queen wants, take me instead!”

  The monster gave him a smile that chilled him to the bone. “Oh, we will. You’re all going to suffer.”

  More of the lizard-folk descended. Fergus fought them slashing and hacking. Tom stood there useless to fight the ones dragging Aoife away or the ones attacking Fergus. The ironclad grip of clawed hands cinched his arms, the sharp tips biting into his naked flesh. Two of the creatures at either side of him stank like sulfur.

  Fergus spun in his direction, roared, his massive broadsword slicing the monster on Tom’s left clean in half. Hot blood splattered Tom’s face. He spat the vile substance out. He might as well have not bothered since more gore covered him as Fergus lopped off the head of the creature on his right.

  The Scot’s eyes were bright, inhumanely bright. “Stay close.”

  He didn’t have to tell Tom twice.

  Fergus slaughtered at least ten of the lizard-folk slicing and carving through flesh and bone as if it were butter. He killed again and again until the monster horde grew too great, overwhelming the Scot with sheer numbers.

  Though none of the monsters touched him, Tom screamed until he had no voice left. The last thing he saw was a clawed fist coming at his face before all went black.

  9

  Tom woke with the worst hangover. His head felt like someone had dumped a bucket of glass shards inside his skull and shaken it. His whole body ached. His eyes hurt too much to open. He winced inwardly just thinking about opening them to a sunlit room. His mouth tasted like shit and he felt slightly nauseous.

  Ariel was going to lecture him for not drinking enough water before going to sleep. Their bed felt cold and hard as stone. A damp, musty smell filled his nostrils, along with the strong scent of rotten eggs and excrement. Tom gagged.

  Everything came back to him in a rush.

  Tom forced his eyes open and found himself on the stone and mortar floor of what looked like the bottom of an oubliette in the castles he’d toured, except colder and scarier since he was looking up at the screen covering the hole of forgetting, not the other way around. The oubliette was big enough for his body to lay in the fetal position, but not much else.

  Tears pricked his eyes. Fergus had tried to warn him from the start. Ariel had tried to warn him Ireland was not safe. God! Even the lady at the airport had said, “Mind the fair folk while you’re here. They have an eye for the lonely and lost.”

  He ached to be held by Ariel right now, to be in their bed safe and comfortable. He regretted pushing Ariel when his boyfriend had just needed time. He regretted traveling halfway around the world without the protection Ariel had given him. If he could get out of this dungeon, and back home, he would be content with whatever his beautiful man could give.

  He couldn’t escape, though, not without knowing what happened to Fergus and Aoife. A part of him feared that the monsters had killed his new lovers. Tom couldn’t listen to that part. He had to believe they were alive and that he could somehow get them all out of here. If he remembered anything from all his studies, the fae liked to make bargains.

  That got him to sit up and then stand. The room tilted and he nearly collapsed. He stretched out an arm steading himself with the support of the cold, damp stone. It was slick and he didn’t want to consider what coated the surface.

  “Guard!” he yelled, hoping someone would hear him. His voice had little power to it, he didn’t know how long he’d been there or the last time he’d eaten.

  “Shut up, lad.” The voice that sounded more like two sheets of paper rubbing together, resembling speech than words coming from a human.

  He shuddered but persisted. “I want to speak to the queen.”

  A sound akin to a snort preceded the wheezy warning, “Mind what you wish for; you might just get it. Your friends are regretting not handing you over to her right now.”

  Tom’s heart raced. He couldn’t stand the thought of Aoife and Fergus being tortured. “Please, tell the queen I’ll give her anything she wants if she’ll spare them.”

  “Hush. Dying slowly in that cell will be better than what the queen will do to you.” The guard wheezed more than spoke.

  “What do you care?”

  “Because I’m in an oubliette too. Believe me, this is the best way to die here, so please don’t draw attention.”

  Tom sank to the floor, burying his head between his knees. If he wasn’t even good enough for killing, he
didn’t have anything to bargain in exchange for their lives.

  Something occurred to him. “Did you say there were no guards?”

  “There are no guards because there are monsters far worse than any guard.”

  Tom would take his chances. Dying while trying to escape was much better than slowly dying in a cell.

  Tom felt along the slimy walls until he found a good foot and handhold. Scaling the wall took considerable time and energy. His muscles burned with the effort, and he had to take several pauses. His skin was coated with the slick substance, making it difficult to find purchase. Given he hadn’t eaten or drank anything for a while, he was surprised he could climb at all. When he reached the top, he nearly cried with relief.

  A narrow ledge rimmed the oubliette. He rested his forearm on the ledge and reached for the grate with the other hand. Praying to whatever gods who would listen, Tom begged for the grate would move as he gave it a push.

  His heart leapt when the grate lifted much easier than expected. The metal disc tipped to one side. When he tried to rebalance, he lost his hold. The grate rang like a gong as it hit the floor. The raucous echo hurt his ears.

  Recovering, Tom pushed with all his might. He managed to heave himself onto a stone floor of a long hall. The walls and ceiling of the hall were covered in flowering vines. The flowers themselves emitted a pretty blue light, and the air smelled significantly better up here. Tom lay on the cool, dry stone, catching his breath.

  “You fool,” the rasping voice wheezed. “They’ll blame me.”

  Tom crawled toward the sound of the voice and peered down a grate. He blinked, at what looked like a sitting tree. Upon closer inspection, the tree had lines for eyes and a mouth and twisted branches for arms and legs. The dryad looked like a monstrous version of a c character. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Oh, get devoured by a nasty Unseelie together? Sounds lovely.”