by August Li
Chapter 3
ROBIN chose the Spotted Fawn Inn for two reasons: first, it looked luxurious and comfortable, but not so flashy that he’d attract attention, and second, it would be easy to sneak Snowdrop into the room, since each suite had a small balcony and a door that led to the outside. The faerie wouldn’t have to risk entering the lobby. Robin instructed him to hide behind the elderberry fronds that lined the inn’s driveway. He’d looked a little insulted but agreed. After the innkeeper and staff had shown Robin to the room, lit a fire in the hearth and the lamps, turned down the bed, and taken Robin’s order for a late dinner, the thief fetched the faerie from among the shrubbery.
“Nice, yeah?” Robin said, looking around their suite of rooms, unused to such opulence. The floor and walls were dark wood, probably walnut, and the mantle was smooth, creamy marble. A macramé canopy covered the domed top of the huge bed. The linens smelled of roses and baby’s breath, and weren’t the least bit scratchy or rough. The suite contained a cedar-lined armoire, a night table and chest, and a round table between two upholstered chairs that sat overlooking the fields and forests that gave the little town its name. A separate bathroom with running water had a large iron tub, a chamber pot that emptied when one pulled a chain, a full-length, gilt-framed mirror, and peach-colored towels as soft as clouds. “I think this is the loveliest place I’ve ever seen.”
Snowdrop snorted through his nose, crossed his arms, and tapped his fingers against his elbows. “It’s not so special.”
“Well, you’re welcome to find somewhere else to sleep, my fine friend!”
“I only meant that it can’t compare to what I’ve seen in my own lands.”
“I’ve always understood that it’s horrible on the other side of the wall,” Robin said.
“Wall. What an utterly asinine concept. It hardly prevents us from going where we like. But to answer you, the lands of the Beyond are vast and varied. Some are quite similar to your lands, others more beautiful, and some that you would probably not enjoy.”
“How can they be so vast when they only extend to the northern tip of the island?” Robin wondered.
“They certainly do not end there! Our boundaries are not defined by landmarks of the human realm. We—”
A knock at the door interrupted him, and he looked toward it with annoyance.
“That’ll be our dinner,” Robin said, delighted. It had been many long hours since he’d eaten his pie at the Enline train station. “Go into the bathroom until they’ve finished setting it out.”
“Honestly—”
“Snow!”
Something curious happened when Robin mildly scolded the fey: he looked at the floor, turned his palms toward the ceiling, pressed his wrists together and backed slowly toward the loo. Only then did he drop the bloody handkerchief he’d kept clutched in his fist. Robin wondered what cowed him, but soon the sight and scent of his meal pushed the question to the back of his mind. He watched the waiter set out the dishes he’d ordered, open the wines and arrange the napkins and cutlery. Then he paid for his food and tipped the man a shilling. He went to retrieve Snow and found him sitting on his heels in a dark corner between the wall and pedestal sink. His knuckles rested on his knees. Seeing him that way unnerved Robin for reasons he couldn’t identify. He cleared his throat, and the faerie lifted his head.
“Hungry?” He held out his hand, and Snow took it and stood. Robin led him to the round table and pulled out his chair. He sat down and spread his napkin across his lap. Robin took the other chair and poured some wine into the faerie’s flute. He tucked into the fresh bread, egg salad, watercress, cold chicken, and mushy peas with a vengeance, while his guest merely picked at some lettuce and apple slices. “I upset you,” Robin stated. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t quite know how to act around one of you.”
“It matters very little,” Snow said, fluttering his elegant fingers dismissively. “You won’t see me again after tonight.”
Those words sat sourly in Robin’s gut. He took a long pull from his own wine. “Snowdrop,” he began, before something occurred to him. “What’s your real name?”
With a giggle, he replied, “Nice try.”
“What?”
“My true name would give you power over me. You, you really didn’t know that?”
“How would I?”
“I see. You’re a very surprising and intriguing person, I must say. And named for a bird; that’s unusual among your people.”
“Your name,” Robin pressed. “It feels wrong to call you by the name that, the name given to you while—”
“I am not so fragile. Snowdrop will do as well as anything.” He finished his wine and held his cup to Robin for more.
“Are you feeling better, then?” He couldn’t tell by the fey’s coloring; his skin was likely always that creamy white with the faintest tint of green, like the palest and rarest jade of the Aurient. Even his lips lacked any proper pigment, but he was quite beautiful in an exotic, alien way.
Snow’s face stayed focused on his drink, but his bright eyes turned up and regarded Robin through his sumptuous lashes. He smiled, and Robin felt like every bone in his body turned to liquid. It surprised him to remain sitting upright. He balled the tablecloth in his sweaty fists and squeezed his thighs together in a vain attempt to prevent arousal. Heat spread down the back of his neck, and a few beads of sweat ran down the hair along the sides of his face. He finished his Chablis in one gulp.
“What do you want to say?” Snow asked in a low voice, drawing out the vowels and raising gooseflesh up Robin’s arms.
“I want to understand what happened to you.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the fey snapped, his mood swinging rapidly toward irritation.
“Yes, but, but why? Was he keeping you just as, just as a plaything? How long did he have you? What things did he make you do? Those scars on your back—”
Calm again, Snow held up a hand to stop Robin. He pushed his plate away, stood, opened the curtains, and slid up the glass. Here at the back of the inn, they had a view of the fields and forests that were famous among the gentry for fine hunting. In the dark, Robin saw little beyond fuzzy suggestions of hillocks and trees, but maybe Snow could perceive more. The fey sighed with contentment and breathed deeply of night air. He kept his gaze on the horizon and his back toward Robin as he began to speak.
“We were dancing to celebrate Midsummer night. I think it must have been five years ago, or more. I couldn’t gauge the passage of time without the sun or seasons. I can’t say what happened or even how, but we lay down to sleep among the sweet clover and bee balm, and when I opened my eyes again I’d crossed over into this realm. Some men had taken about a dozen of us, and we found ourselves in a dark, stone room, chains holding us to the walls. We didn’t understand yet that the humans had created a means of negating our magic. Those machines you saw in Bunge’s house. They experimented on us, trying to determine which things caused us harm and to which we were immune. They recorded their discoveries, made a profit from them somehow. Bunge took a liking to me and brought me to his home.
“I was, as you said, a plaything. But Bunge was also conducting an experiment of his own. He wished to see if my kind could be… trained was the word he used, but he wanted to see if he could beat out my defiance. He thought that if he succeeded, we could be used by your people as companions and servants.”
“Slaves,” Robin corrected.
“Yes. He sought to uncover which techniques would break my will, make me obey him unconditionally. He was paid for his findings. That gold that now lines your pockets.”
“Will you go after your people? Break them out?”
Snow shook his head. “I’m not exactly sure where they are. Somewhere in Enline I believe, in a dark stone building near the factories. I remember the constant noise and stench of machines. But I have nothing to gain from searching for them. They wouldn’t do it for me.”
“But, Snow!”
“Leave it
, Robin. Please, just leave it.”
Robin hadn’t been aware of standing up nor walking over to the fey. He placed a quivering hand on Snow’s shoulder, and the faerie flinched. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “My people condemn yours for taking slaves, and yet we seek to do the same.”
Snow spun around, his beautiful face contorted with a rage that Robin felt crackling in the air. “The same!” he yelled, shoving Robin back a step. “We take humans because they can sing or dance or write plays or paint pictures. We take them for their beauty or charm! We take the ones that we like, that amuse us. Even those that we take as servants we would never abuse in such a ghastly manner.”
“Calm yourself,” Robin said, a little annoyed at being pushed. “Someone will hear you.”
“Well I don’t care!” He raised his hand and clawed at the air, making the atmosphere itself ripple and warp.
Scared, Robin retreated to the other side of the room. If someone came, he’d claim the faerie abducted him. No one would doubt it. Robin worried Snow might hurt or transform him before that happened, though. His moods were wildly unpredictable, and violence oozed from his narrowed eyes and toothy grin. Outside a clap of thunder shook the sky, so loud that it rang in Robin’s ears. He backed against the wall as lightning colored the clouds and rain came down in sheets. Slowly he inched toward the door, planning to run. Just as he reached for the knob, Snow sunk into a chair, looking spent. The rainfall became steady and the thunder more distant.
“Don’t go,” the fey asked gently.
“Will you try to stop me?”
“No, but I’m asking you to stay. I won’t hurt you. I was just angry. Come. Have some more wine. Sit with me and enjoy the rain. Please.”
Gingerly Robin crossed the room and moved his chair to face the window. He still felt jumpy, and stole a glance at Snow from the corner of his eye. The fey looked completely relaxed with his forearm resting on the windowsill and his wine in his other hand. He inhaled deeply and said, “How I’ve missed the sweet scent of the summer rain. Smell it, Robin. Close your eyes.”
Robin did. The rain intensified the smells of the soil, the ferns, the trees, flowers, and wild berries. Robin recognized the aroma of wet stone, of pine needles, mushrooms, and the herbs growing in the inn’s little garden. He almost thought he detected the musk of the small red deer grazing on wild thyme and rye grass. The two men sat in silence for a long time. Robin heard Snow’s breath slow and wondered if he’d fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes to check, he found the fey studying him intently.
“What is it?” Robin asked, unnerved.
Snow reached out and stroked a lock of hair above Robin’s ear. His hand trailed down Robin’s chin and neck, coming to rest on Robin’s collarbone. “You’re very beautiful,” Snow said slowly. “Would you like to make love?”
“I beg your pardon!” Robin pulled away from the other man’s hands, got to his feet, and hurried to stand behind his chair. He couldn’t imagine Snow would crave the act of love after his abuse, or that he could sense Robin’s predilections so soon. While Robin took a carefree view of physical companionship, he didn’t trust this faerie that he’d known for only a few hours. Before meeting Snow, speaking with him, Robin had considered fey cursed creatures worse than beasts. Now he found them, or at least this one, moody to a point almost approaching madness.
“You’ve been admiring me,” Snow persisted, standing to unbutton the large shirt that hung like a sack over his lean frame.
“Yes, but—”
“And I admire you.” He slipped the shirt over his shoulders and off. His pale, shapely body looked blurry and soft in the low mix of gas and firelight. His glorious hair glowed almost like a halo, and his eyes seemed lit from within, firefly green. “We admire each other, so why should we not enjoy one another?”
“You’re weak, unwell,” Robin argued feebly as he tried to ignore the heating of his face and the tightness in his pants. “You mustn’t exert yourself.”
“Nonsense,” Snow said, moving a few inches closer so that his chest bumped into Robin’s. Nipples like little pearls brushed against Robin’s shirt. “Good, natural things will help me to recover. Things like fresh air and rain. This.” He placed his hands on Robin’s cheeks and pulled their faces together.
At first, shock prevented Robin from acting; he stood stiff and stone-still as Snow’s lips pressed against and glided over his own. Snow’s fingers wriggled into Robin’s hair and closed around his locks, pulling Robin nearer as his tongue swiped across Robin’s teeth. The wine couldn’t cover Snow’s natural, clover-honey taste. His skin smelled of the grass and petals Robin had crushed beneath his boot before finding him. His bare body was silky and warm beneath Robin’s hands as they glided over Snow’s waist. Robin’s mouth parted slightly, and the tip of his tongue met the faerie’s tongue. He pressed against it, afraid too much insistence might spook the vulnerable fey. But Snow’s lips dropped open, and his head fell back, inviting Robin to explore the sweetness of his palate. His waist bowed forward against Robin, and he held tighter to Robin’s hair. Robin kissed him hard, his hands moving around his back to pull him closer. When his fingers met the first of the many raised welts, though, he stopped and moved away from Snow.
“This isn’t right,” he said.
Snow looked down and away. “I’m damaged,” he muttered. “You find me deformed and disgusting.”
“No,” Robin said quickly. He wrapped his arms around Snow’s neck and drew his face to his shoulder. Petting the hair away from Snow’s long, pointed ear, Robin said, “I find you magical and exquisite. I find you very desirable.” He guided Snow’s hand to the swell in his pants as proof. “We’ve only just met, though. You know, you don’t need to pay me back. I don’t expect anything.”
Snow lifted his head and looked at Robin, his eyes reminding Robin of yellow flowers with black centers amidst a field of green. “My people attach none of the regulations to lovemaking that yours impose. It’s just something to enjoy. I want you, Robin.”
“Snow, I—”
“Am I hideous? Please tell me.”
“No. Dear God, no.” Robin spread his fingers over Snow’s face and used them to comb the thick hair away. He held his white tresses as he kissed across his brow, kissed his eyelids, pale lashes, high cheeks, delicate nose, lips, and chin. Robin’s mouth moved across Snow’s jaw as the faerie tugged at the thief’s belt. He found the sharp spike of Snow’s ear and explored its ridges and interior whorls with his tongue. Snow moaned with appreciation and circled his undeniable erection against Robin’s own.
“Your ears are so alluring,” Robin panted, giving the tip of one a playful nip, earning a small, delighted sound from the faerie. He ran his tongue over the entire edge of the narrow triangle before grasping Snow’s tiny waist and gently spinning him around. He lifted the silvery curtain of hair that fell almost to the fey’s hips. At first Snow took his wrist and tried to stop him, but Robin broke away and said, “Everything about you is alluring. You’re wonderful.”
Snow choked back a sound that might have been a sob before brushing his hair over his shoulder and offering Robin a view of his scarred back. As Robin kissed across his shoulders, Snow knit his fingers into Robin’s and guided one of Robin’s hands to his straining erection. He brought the other to his mouth and sucked Robin’s fingers one at a time, the tip of his tongue pressing against the tips of Robin’s fingers. His cock pushed against Robin’s palm as Robin’s lips explored the ridges of raised flesh that striped his back. Soon, Robin felt a circle of moisture against his skin. It dampened a circle of Snowdrop’s stolen pants, and Robin smiled. He wrapped his fingers around the thick base of Snowdrop’s shaft and squeezed.
“You’re so excited—”
“Robin, I want you to take me. I want you inside me.”
“Snow.” Robin didn’t know what to say as he stepped back to undo his belt and trouser flap. He’d been envisioning things the other way around, with himself taking the b
ottom as he usually did.
“Robin?” Snow faced him as he slowly removed his shoes and pants. As soon as he was naked, the faerie dropped down to sit on his heels with the backs of his hands on his thighs, as Robin had seen him do in the washroom. The thief understood that the faerie had spent so much time bound in that position that he assumed it automatically. Perhaps it granted him some unfathomable comfort. Once he’d finished undressing, Robin sat in the same fashion, his kneecaps flush with Snow’s. He draped his hands over the insides of the faerie’s wrists and gave the thin bones a slight squeeze. Snow nodded, confirming Robin’s hunch.
“Look at me,” Robin said. Snowdrop lifted his chin. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He picked up Robin’s discarded tie and placed it in Robin’s hand. Then he lifted his arms and presented his pressed-together wrists. “Please.”
The fire burned at Snow’s back, lighting only the edges of his hair and limbs. It made the faux-silk of Robin’s cheap tie glimmer softly as he looked down at it. For whatever reason, Snow needed this. Robin wrapped the fabric tightly around the faerie’s slender wrists and secured it with a knot. All the while he watched Snow’s face for any sign of distress, but Snow just looked interested and aroused as he observed Robin binding his hands. When Robin finished, Snow tried to pull his hands apart, his sleek biceps and forearm muscles flexing beneath his skin as he tested his restraints.
Once again Robin pushed his abundant hair away to admire his face. For all his power, the faerie looked vulnerable, almost innocent. Robin kissed him softly, savoring his taste, as he felt out Snow’s hard cock. His thumb smeared the fluids leaking from the slit over Snow’s plump, swollen corona before his hand closed around it. He began to pump it with short, quick strokes, and soon the scent of the faerie’s pre-come filled his nostrils.
“Put your hands behind my head,” Robin panted. Snow quickly looped his bound hands over Robin’s hair and let his arms rest on Robin’s shoulders. “Now open your knees a bit.” The faerie obeyed, and Robin scooted between his spread legs until his own knees met Snow’s downy balls. He let go of his partner’s erection and licked the streams of white liquid from between his fingers while Snow watched, enrapt. “You taste good,” Robin said, offering the fey a sample from the side of his thumb. As Snow’s tongue lapped it up, Robin said, “I want to taste more of you. Don’t let go of me.”
