Page 4 of The Elves and the Shoemaker
The pain had been excruciating, yet Henrik had been sure that witnessing Elias endure that same fate would have hurt one hundred times more.
When he’d returned, Elias had been incensed but had procured a salve from somewhere and tended to Henrik’s wounds with a degree of care Henrik had never experienced before.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Elias had whispered furiously.
“I have more meat on my bones, Eli. I will survive this, but you might not have,” Henrik had explained matter-of-factly.
Elias hadn’t replied with words. He’d pressed his lips to Henrik’s with a fierceness that Henrik had returned, and being careful of his wounded back, they had lain together, taking each other in hand until release had burned through some of the passion that had been building between them.
They had lain together like that infrequently. Pain, exhaustion, and starvation had made them unable to yearn for more than food and sleep. But they had slept in each other’s arms ever since, and both had gone to sleep and awoken with a kiss that had reassured Henrik that he had, in fact, had a reason to stay alive. Because, despite having had no real desire to endure that life anymore, Henrik would never have left Elias to fend for himself in this cold, unforgiving world.
“What are you thinking of?” Elias asked, stroking a finger down Henrik’s nose and bringing him back to the present.
Henrik blushed a little and a mischievous grin lit up Elias’ face in response.
“I… um… was recalling the first time you kissed me. And alsoafter… you kissed me.” Henrik stumbled through his reply.
At first, Elias pouted because he did not enjoy the reminder of the lashings Henrik had taken on his behalf, but never one to let negative thoughts bring him down for long, Elias found his smile again.
“I was so mad at you, I thought I might strike you. But then my hands gripped your shoulders, and I found my lips pressed against yours, and it was all I could think about.” Elias spoke calmly, never embarrassed by discussing such matters. They’d been raised quite differently in that regard. “May I touch you now?” Elias asked, as if to prove Henrik’s point.
Henrik nodded his head to give permission, and then Elias pushed up the fabric that covered him, reaching underneath to stroke the soft flesh to hardness.
An “mmm” sound escaped Henrik’s lips unbidden, and then Elias suddenly had the two of them pressed together in the vise of his fist. Elias kept his hair tied up with a string of leather atop his head, but several strands had come loose during sleep and framed his face now.
Elias stroked both their lengths slowly while he gazed into Henrik’s eyes, lips slightly parted. It had been some time since Henrik had found release, and his balls ached for relief.
Speeding up his rhythm, and tightening his grip, it wasn’t long before Henrik was panting, pure arousal flooding his senses as he fell over the precipice and spilled over Elias’ hand and cock, shuddering all the while. Elias joined him moments later, his eyes widening as he let out a small gasp of pleasure when he came.
Afterwards, Henrik held Elias close, their messy, softening cocks pressed together in a reminder of the moment they’d just shared. Having Elias in his arms like this was the reassurance Henrik needed—that while he didn’t have much, he hadhim.
A
few days earlier, Henrik had overheard a few locals gossiping about some travelling merchants setting up in the market the coming Saturday and how everyone would be heading there to peruse their wares. With this in mind, Henrik and Elias had decided their best bet for collecting some coin would be to spend the day near the entrance to the market.
They huddled under their cotton sheet, which did little to ward off the chill since the temperature had dropped suddenly again a few days ago. Using some willow branches, Henrik had woven a small bowl to place in front of them in the hope that passersby might be feeling generous and drop some change.
The rumours had been true that the market would be busy that day; unfortunately, though, everyone seemed inclined to keep every coin they had for shopping, and they’d barely collected enough to buy some of the stale leftover bread from the bakers. The market would close soon, and Elias’ teeth were already chattering from the bitterly cold winds that seemed to come at them from every direction.
Footsteps sounded nearby, but by this point, Henrik didn’t even look up, expecting them to continue on inside, not giving them a second glance. Only, the footsteps stopped, and he could feel eyes on him.
Elias looked up first, and when Henrik saw a tired but gentle smile on his face, he turned to face the same direction. Standing just a few metres away was a tall man; a beard and a flat cap hid most of his face, but the first thing Henrik noticed was that he had kind eyes.
Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out two silver coins before approaching them. Instead of dropping them into the bowl, he held out a coin to each of them and smiled.
“Thank you,” Elias said.
The man looked at them with a concerned frown on his face before scanning their surroundings. He then pointed to himself with his thumb, then at the market entrance with his index finger and held up two fingers to them as if to suggest he’d be back in two minutes. Henrik wasn’t sure what he was coming back for but found himself nodding anyway because this had been the first kind interaction they’d had since arriving in Falchovari.
Once he left them and entered the market, Elias turned to Henrik and asked, “Do you think he is unable to hear, like Frida?”
Frida was another slave they’d known back at the mill. She’d been born unable to hear and relied on hand signals and writing things down to communicate, although that was difficult with how few people could read. He shrugged at Elias, still staring at the doorway the mysterious, kind man had disappeared through.
A stab of guilt pierced through Henrik’s stomach when he realised he’d been admiring the man. The first and only person he’d really admired since long before he’d met Elias. Making his behaviour even more suspicious, Henrik overcompensated and pressed a brief kiss to Elias’ cheek—in public, at that. Which he never did, and now Elias was looking at him like he’d grown a second head.
What was wrong with him?
Before Henrik could truly spiral, however, the man returned with a small bag in his hand and pulled out a sheet of parchment and some graphite. He scribbled something on the piece of paper, poking his tongue out between his lips slightly as he did it, which Henrik didnotfind kind of sweet.
