Page 13 of A Winter Courtship
“Really?” Ulrich cleared his throat. “I work in the smithy.”
“I know. I’ll see you there.” Then Lutoth turned and walked away before he could change his mind, proud of his self-control.
Although, he doubted he’d be able to resist Ulrich much longer.
ChapterEight
Ulrich pumped the bellows with one hand, feeding the flames in the forge. Within the blazing coals lay a lump of glowing iron.
“You should get inside, Ethel,” Ulrich called out, glancing back at the reindeer standing in the doorway to the smithy. “It’s dark and getting a bit nippy.”
When Ulrich worked, Ethel either stayed in the doorway to the smithy—preferring not to be in there whilst he worked—grazed nearby, or went into the cabin.
She didn’t move. But Ulrich knew she’d head into the cabin soon. She never stayed out long after sunset.
With a pair of tongs, Ulrich reached into the coals and pulled out the iron. He placed it against the anvil, holding it there with the tongs, and began hammering it into shape.
Ulrich still couldn’t believe he was being courted by the nymph he’d played with as a youngling. As soon as Lutoth had told him, Ulrich had remembered.
Back then, he’d often play with his brother and the oreads and humans in the valley. But he’d always seemed to get left behind. One summer day a nymph had turned up. He hadn’t seemed to mind Ulrich’s shyness or how withdrawn he was. He’d just decided they’d play together.
Lutoth hadn’t spoken the human tongue back then. Ulrich hadn’t spoken Nymphish. Ulrich was certain he’d asked for Lutoth’s name. But if Lutoth had told him, Ulrich had never been able to identify it amongst the Nymphish words.
Still, that hadn’t mattered. They’d been friends. Ulrich had been captivated by the nymph and drawn to his strength and confidence. Ulrich had liked to hear Lutoth speak, even if he hadn’t understood the lyrical words.
Sometimes they’d climb together. Not that Ulrich could climb like Lutoth, but they’d climb rocks, and Lutoth would reach back and hold out his hand to help him.
In his youth, Ulrich had fixated on those moments, on the feel of Lutoth’s oread-rough hands, perfect for climbing, in his. Sometimes he’d lie in bed at night, remembering the feel of those hands. And sometimes he’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Lutoth.
He took the now-cooled metal off the anvil and placed it back into the forge to reheat, pumping the bellows.
Then Lutoth had disappeared. He remembered the day he’d dashed through the forest, keen and eager to see Lutoth, as he always had been. He’d gone to the boulder where they’d met each day. He’d stood on top of it, waiting, gaze searching the trees.
But Lutoth hadn’t appeared.
Nor had he come the next day when Ulrich had gone to their spot.
Or the next.
For weeks and months, every time he was in the forest, he’d search for Lutoth. But he’d never seen him again. He’d been despondent and taken to sitting around his father’s cabin most of the time.
“Why are you lazing about?” his father had demanded.
Ulrich had hunched his shoulders, avoiding his father’s gaze.
“I won’t have you sitting around all day. Come. You’re working in the smithy.”
And that was how Ulrich had started his apprenticeship.
And now Lutoth was back in Ulrich’s life. Courting him.
They’d kissed. It had been a kiss he’d wished for twenty years ago.
And the kisses had been filled with so much affection, sweetness, and gentleness. And smiles. He’d never had that before. They hadn’t been the rough, rushed kisses before a fuck that he’d gotten used to.
He hoped there would be more kisses. He hoped there would be more of everything. He thought sex with Lutoth would be different. He didn’t think it would leave him feeling sick and ashamed of himself. His cock filled at the thought of what sex might be like with Lutoth. He wanted to find out what it was like.
Footsteps sounded in the smithy behind him. His heart leapt.
