Faerie Story:  Chapter Five

The next morning, Skinner woke with a sleepy, shyly smiling Alexin still lying within the comfort of his arms.

It was such a pleasant way to awaken that he spent a long, lazy while feasting on the boy’s sweet, welcoming lips before eventually indulging in a hearty breakfast of the boy’s seed.

Even though he was too dazed by the pleasure of Alexin’s taste to be fully cognizant of the boy’s reactions to his hungry licks and sucks, he was peripherally aware that Alexin was alternating between closing his eyes in bliss and attempting to raise his head enough to watch what Skinner was doing. It occurred to him, finally, that Alexin was trying to memorize what most gave him pleasure – presumably in an attempt to duplicate the process on Skinner later.

The knowledge made Skinner chuckle with relief. Clearly, despite his fright the night before, Alexin wasn’t averse to the idea of perhaps trying to mouth his member again.

Which reminded him of Alexin’s puzzlement over the bitter taste of his seed.

So, while the boy was still shaking and gasping in the throes of his orgasm, Skinner slid up his body and pressed his lips to Alexin’s mouth. He slipped his tongue, still dripping with Alexin’s juices, between the boy’s lips and flooded the soft mouth with the honeyed taste of Faerie seed.

Alexin’s eyes bulged with surprise, but then he licked hungrily at Skinner’s mouth, clearly finding his own taste delicious.

“This… this is how I taste to you?” he finally gasped, when Skinner eventually broke the kiss.

Skinner chuckled and nodded.

“No…no wonder you drink of me,” Alexin blurted. “I taste wonderful.”

“You do. Unfortunately, I obviously don’t taste as sweet to you,” Skinner acknowledged ruefully.

Alexin bit his lower lip and flushed slightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sure I will… will grow accustomed to your flavor in time.”

“Perhaps you will,” Skinner agreed easily. “Some things are acquired tastes. But if you don’t learn to enjoy tasting me, it doesn’t matter. Your palate is clearly one that prefers the sweetest of things so you may never adjust to the taste of something as salty as human seed. It matters not. Your hand brought me much pleasure, Alexin. If you never wish to take me in your mouth again, I’ll survive the disappointment.”

Alexin stiffened and his eyes sparked with obvious offence. “I wasn’t raised to be a ‘disappointment’ to my mate,” he snapped proudly.

“You weren’t raised to mate with a human male either,” Skinner pointed out mildly. “This relationship is going to take a good amount of trial and error on both of our parts before we find a comfortable way to exist together. Now we know there is no need for me to mount you at all, that’s another disappointment which my body will have to learn to live with. From now on, even after your bottom has healed, I promise I’ll never use you in that way again.”

“Truly?” Alexin asked, obviously as astonished by the comment as he was relieved.

“As long as *you* swear never to make me suffer again as I did last night. Unless I’m bound, I won’t be able to keep my promise and I have to admit the idea of letting you bind my wrists again is not something I currently relish. We have to be able to trust each other, Alexin.”

“I *said* I was sorry,” Alexin sniffled, his eyes filling with tears at Skinner’s mild chastisement.

“And *I* said you were forgiven. So dry your eyes. The last thing I need right now is the distraction of your tears. We need to get moving. We need to find food and water today, at the very least. But if we’re lucky, we might find a human settlement somewhere within these hills. There are always some humans brave or foolish enough to make their homes even this close to Faerie land.”

Alexin paled significantly but just nodded, rose to his feet and quietly followed Skinner through the trees.

Skinner hadn’t missed the whitening of Alexin’s face.

“I know you’re probably worried about meeting other humans,” he said sympathetically, as he led the way. “And, to be honest, it *could* be a problem, considering the way my people justifiably feel about the Faerie. But what I propose is that we simply pass you off as a human woman. In all honesty, you’re far too beautiful to pass as *any* type of boy, but I can probably convince people you’re a half-bred girl. Things being as they are, you may still have problems with womenfolk since they’ll be jealous of your beauty, but the men will hopefully see only a desirable woman and treat you accordingly.”

Although he would have found pretending to be a female himself to be unthinkable, Skinner didn’t expect Alexin to protest the idea. For one thing, Alexin would be happier wearing the prettier, less revealing garments such as a human woman wore. For another, Alexin was from a culture where females were of higher status than males. So it wouldn’t hurt his pride to name himself a ‘girl’, the way it would a human male like Skinner.

So Skinner was completely puzzled when the boy uttered a low, keening moan of distress.

“It can’t be helped, Alexin. At least not this close to the border, where my people have good reason to hate and distrust your people. And, let’s be honest, I can’t see you *wanting* to dress in the bare legged leather skirts of a youth, anyway. Human boys don’t wear gowns or flowers in their hair. In fact,” he added, warming to the subject, “I’d have to cut at *least* an arm’s length of your hair off, were I to attempt to pass you off as a boy. And you’d have to carry a knife, at least. Perhaps even a sword. And no one would care that you couldn’t use it. They’d still have the right to call challenge upon you.”

Behind him, Alexin began to cry.

Skinner didn’t turn back to observe the tears, but nodded with satisfaction. “See? It’s *far* better that you pretend to be a woman, isn’t it?”

Alexin didn’t reply. He did, however, continue to cry.

Skinner just continued to walk onwards and deliberately ignored the sniveling for a few minutes. He was hoping that a little silence between them would help the boy compose himself but, rather than abating, Alexin’s cries deepened into steady, constant sobs.

Finally, Skinner couldn’t take it anymore. He halted so abruptly that Alexin bumped into him, and then he turned around, glared at the boy’s tear streaked face and gruffly barked, “What is it NOW?”

Several more tears streaked down Alexin’s face before he managed to control his trembling lower lip enough to sob, “H…h…hu…hurts.”

For a moment, Skinner was non-plussed. Then, like a dash of freezing water in his face, he realized that the boy wasn’t crying about the idea of dressing as a woman. Gods, Alexin probably hadn’t even been *listening* to him. The tears and the sobbing weren’t evidence of a tantrum as he’d assumed.

The boy was in *pain*.

Obvious *real* pain.

Skinner could have kicked himself. He’d actually forgotten how badly he’d torn the boy the day before. The potion must have worn off overnight, and now Alexin was clearly in agony.

That was obviously why he’d gone so pale when Skinner had said they needed to get moving.

Skinner didn’t even have an excuse for being so blind to Alexin’s agony since his *own* body was aching too.

“How much does it hurt, Alexin?” he asked, his tone gentle and his heart ashamed.

“Like… like I’ve had a thousand pricks in my bottom,” Alexin whimpered.

“Like what?” Skinner asked, blinking in astonishment.

“Every step I take hurts like when I pricked my thumb, but a thousand-fold,” Alexin clarified.

Skinner struggled against the urge to chuckle. Just for a moment, he’d thought Alexin had been saying… He shook his head to clear the thought. And abruptly lost any thought of amusement. If the boy couldn’t walk…

“We *have* to keep moving,” he groaned.

“I know,” Alexin sobbed. “I *am* moving. But… but it still *hurts*.”

“Of course it hurts,” Skinner agreed.

Again he found himself impressed by the boy’s surprising bravery.

Alexin’s life before that past week had been a coddled, pain free existence which had left the boy soft and frail. How the boy was managing to cope with *any* pain was a miracle. So Skinner felt ashamed of the many times the boy’s mild whimpers and complaints during their journey had driven him to snapping irritation rather than pity.

Every single blister and scratch the boy had suffered must have been terrifying and unbearable for a pampered boy like Alexin, and the rapes themselves would have been agonizing. Yet, despite his guilt, Skinner had shown so little sympathy for the boy’s complaints of pain that Alexin had obviously given up hope of *ever* eliciting pity from him.

So much so that now, when Alexin could barely even move, the boy hadn’t even tried to explain how much agony he was in, but had merely, bravely, attempted to walk regardless. Although he was white faced and trembling, with tears pouring involuntarily down his cheeks, Alexin seemed more terrified of facing Skinner’s contempt over his ‘weakness’ than the prospect of being told to walk on.

“Gods,” Skinner cursed aloud. “When did I become such a heartless brute?”

He gathered the boy in his arms, hugging him tightly to prove that the *last* thing he felt was any contempt for Alexin’s pain, and the boy gave a gulping sob, buried his face in Skinner’s neck and started to cry again. But this time, at least, his tears seemed to be those of relief.

Skinner found himself telling Alexin about the exodus from Crystal City. The long, terrible walk of death. The way he’d witnessed those whom he’d loved finally dropping from exhaustion, cold, hunger and pain, never to rise again.

“I think my heart hardened, Alexin. It *had* to harden, or I’d never have survived such loss. I saw my children, my wife, my mother, my friends…everyone… in pain such as you are now, and I *had* to close my eyes to it, for there was no choice except for us to forever walk onwards. It’s no excuse for my neglect of your agony, but perhaps it *is* the reason for it. I simply lost the ability to bear witness to the pain of those that I love, so I learned to close my eyes to the suffering of others.”

“So….so you DO love me?” Alexin whispered.

Skinner smiled ruefully.

“I told myself, on the day I buried my children, that I’d never allow myself to love again. On the day I buried Shrona, that thought became a seal of stone around my heart. Yet, somehow, you seem to have shattered that stone, Alexin. I find my heart defenseless to your charm.” He chuckled wryly. “But it’s dusty and long disused, so you must forgive my heart for being inadequate to the task of loving you as you *should* be loved.”

“You love me,” Alexin said and nuzzled happily against Skinner’s chest as if nothing else Skinner had said had mattered to him.

It probably hadn’t, Skinner realized. Though by no means ‘stupid’ like he claimed, Alexin *was* a simple creature in many ways. All he wanted out of life was to be beautiful and to be loved. Even if his only current source of love was a man who treated him badly, he still needed the comfort of that love. Just as he *needed* his hair free of tangles.

Alexin’s priorities were strange to Skinner, but the more he knew the boy, the more Skinner understood and sympathized with them. Like the white wolf, Alexin had a unique beauty that was its own justification for existence.

It was unbearable that the boy’s beautiful face was distorted by pain. Even more unbearable to know himself to be the cause.

There was nothing else for it, he decided. He was going to have to carry the boy himself. They couldn’t stay where they were and he definitely couldn’t expect Alexin to walk any further, when every step was obviously agonizing for him.

Yet, without the potion, the still raw welts and burns across Skinner’s chest and torso would make carrying Alexin in his arms impossible. The only practical way to carry the boy would be slung over his shoulder as he’d done the day before while fleeing the fire. That wouldn’t be very comfortable for Alexin. *No one* would enjoy being dangled over someone’s shoulder for long.

Besides, even if Alexin agreed it was less uncomfortable than walking, Skinner didn’t think it would significantly increase their speed. The torture he’d suffered so recently, not to mention the fact they’d run out of food and the potion, had taken a huge toll out of his strength. Although the boy was slight, he would quickly become unbearably heavy as a dead weight over Skinner’s shoulder.

“I wish you had a more *useful* kind of magic, Alexin,” he muttered. “Sex is all very well, and making storms and fires might be useful on occasion, but what we *really* need right now is a miracle.”

“What’s a miracle?” Alexin asked, still sniffling slightly but managing to control his tears, now that he was no longer trying to walk.

In the distance, a horn blew a long, ululating wail.

Alexin’s eyes widened in sudden terror. “Is that my people?” he gasped. “Does the sound mean they’ve found our tracks?”

Skinner wouldn’t have blamed Alexin for *wanting* the Faerie to find them under the circumstances, so the boy’s obvious fear at the prospect warmed his heart. That alone would have put a smile on his face, but that wasn’t *why* he returned the boy’s terrified look with a broad, if incredulous, smile.

“No, my love. That’s the sound of a miracle.”

Despite Skinner’s obvious happiness, and Alexin’s relief at not having to walk any further for a while, it wasn’t easy for Skinner to convince the boy that it was necessary for them to part company for a short time.

“That sound wasn’t the call of a Faerie battle horn, but of a more crudely made human hunting horn. The sounds are distinctly different. At least to someone who’s heard both, as I have. Human hunters use such horns to communicate over long distances with their comrades. The horn’s sound varies, depending on the message it sings. Several short rapid bursts, for instance, say that a hunt is in progress. But one long wavering sound, such as we heard, is a summons for hunters to rejoin and return home after a successful hunt. And though I have no way of knowing for certain how far the sound carried to our ears, I’d judge, given the trees and the hilly terrain here, it cannot have been from a great distance. A settlement is very close by.”

“How can you know that for certain?” Alexin demanded. “Even *I* know a horse can cross many miles in a short time.”

“It can,” Skinner agreed, “but not many of my people *have* horses. Even in my city, which was becoming wealthy and strong, we had but twelve horses between us. Horses are very expensive, and few people with the money to buy horses are desperate enough to live so near to Faerie land as this. So the odds are high that we heard the sound of an unmounted hunter, and that means his settlement cannot be far away.”

Alexin digested Skinner’s words and then, although he still looked slightly confused by Skinner’s conclusion, he nodded his acceptance of Skinner’s deductions. “You *are* clever,” he announced. “Even though you aren’t a woman, you still have big thoughts.”

“Big thoughts?” Skinner queried.

“Big,” Alexin agreed. “Not simple thoughts like I have.”

“Ah, I see,” Skinner laughed. “By big, you meant complex.”

Alexin flushed and dropped his gaze. Skinner immediately cursed himself. He hadn’t meant to sound condescending.

“I like it, Alexin. ‘Big thoughts’. It’s a good description.”

“It is?” Alexin asked, smiling shyly.

Again, Skinner found himself humbled by the boy’s forgiving, easy going nature. All he had to do was offer Alexin the smallest compliment and any amount of hurt seemed to be immediately erased.

“It is,” he agreed firmly.

Alexin beamed with happiness.

“So,” Skinner continued. “I want you to stay here, Alexin, while I scout ahead and find out what manner of settlement it is.”

Which was the point at which all of Alexin’s forgiving, easy going nature transformed almost instantaneously into a full blown temper tantrum.

“You can’t leave me on my own. You can’t. YOU CAN’T. I won’t let you. It’s not fair. You’re supposed to *protect* me. How can you protect me if you aren’t here?” Alexin howled. “You stole my magic, and that means you *have* to stay with me now. You *have* to.”

“I know you’re frightened but I promise I’ll come right back for you and…” Skinner began, his tone soothing.

“Frightened? FRIGHTENED? I hurt so much I can’t even *walk*, and that’s *your* fault, and now you want to leave me on my own to get attacked by wild animals or crazy monkey-people, and you don’t *care* whether I’m hurt or frightened. You don’t even care if I get killed.”

“Alexin, I…”

“You…you LIED when you said you loved me. You just want to get to the settlement and… and lie with a monkey-woman to break our bond, don’t you?” Alexin screamed. “Now my magic’s gotten you out of Faerie land, you don’t need me *or* my magic anymore. You’re just going to leave me here to die. I HATE YOU!”

Skinner’s face suffused with fury. It wasn’t so much his mind that was infuriated by the boy’s accusations, since logically he fully understood the boy was speaking purely out of fear, but his blood literally boiled at the suggestion he was planning to lie with someone to deliberately break the magical bond that tied him to the Faerie boy.

It wasn’t that he took the comment seriously. As far as he understood it, only *Alexin’s* unfaithfulness could sever the magic that bound them together.

But it still filled his blood with fury that Alexin should even suggest such a thing.

He could see the veins already spidering across his forearms, could feel the aching heat of need in his member, could...

“GODS!” he screamed suddenly, dropping his arms, backing away from the boy and gasping furiously for willpower. Had he not been filled with Alexin’s seed from earlier, he doubted he would have regained control of himself. But gradually the dark haze faded from his mind, leaving him trembling with anger still - but at least no longer possessed by the magic.

“You stupid fool,” he spat, glaring with fury at the boy. “Are you so careless of your own pain that you’d do such a stupid thing as to deliberately try to unleash the magic in me?”

For, looking at Alexin’s pale frightened but now pouting expression, Skinner suddenly had no doubt that Alexin *had* done it on purpose. It seemed his ‘innocent’ lover was perhaps not beneath a little manipulation after all.

The boy had acted out of fear, Skinner reminded himself firmly. Alexin had *every* right to be terrified at the prospect of being ‘abandoned’. Perhaps it had been pure instinct that had made the boy attempt to drive him out of his mind with lust in a desperate effort to keep him at his side. Better the pain of being mounted perhaps, than the terror of being alone.

“You’ve never been alone, have you?” he asked suddenly, as the realization dawned.

Alexin shook his head miserably. “Even at night, I knew my nurse lay just feet from my bedchamber door. Even in my garden, I knew that guards were posted all around me. I… I’ve never not had someone within calling distance. I… I’m scared, Skinner. Not just of the woods or the wild animals or the monkey-people. I’m scared that I’ll call out and no one will be there to protect me.”

“You think I *want* to leave you alone?” Skinner growled.

“Then don’t,” Alexin snapped sulkily.

“Like you said yourself, boy. It’s my job to protect you. In this case, protecting you means leaving you here, while I find out whether we dare approach the settlement. And even if it’s safe, need I remind you that you can’t walk? Do you want me to carry you in there dressed like *this*? Slung over my shoulder in skirts so badly torn and *short* that everyone will see your bare, well used buttocks? Is that how you *want* to make your entrance into the human world? Looking like a…a… a ‘barracks man’?”

Unsurprisingly, the comment made Alexin burst into fresh tears.

Skinner just frowned quellingly at the blubbering boy. “I’d save my energy if I were you. I’m in control of your magic now, so those tears won’t distract me from leaving. Neither will they stop me spanking your buttocks so scarlet that they’ll guide me back to you like a fire beacon.”

Alexin gulped, and his eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re going to spank me?” he sobbed. “WHY?”

“Because you clearly didn’t believe I’d keep my promise not to mount you, and you don’t believe I’ll keep my promise to come back to you. So I’m going to prove to you that I *always* keep my promises.”

Skinner smiled grimly at Alexin’s look of frightened incomprehension.

“What did I promise to do if you called humans ‘monkey-people’ again?” he quietly reminded the boy.

“Sp...sp...sp...spank me,” Alexin stuttered. “B...b...but I didn’t...didn’t mean it. I...I was just sc...sc...scared.”

“But I have to keep my promises to you, don’t I?” Skinner asked, with an ingenuous smile.

“B...but...my...my bottom already *hurts*,” Alexin wailed.

“And it’s about to hurt some more. Over my lap, Alexin. Now.”

“I...I...”

“Don’t make me come and get you,” Skinner warned softly.

Alexin’s face crumpled with misery, but he dragged himself up, limped slowly over to where Skinner was sitting and draped himself over Skinner’s thighs with a defeated sob.

Skinner didn’t drag the boy’s misery out by making him wait for the punishment. He immediately began applying a series of firm smacks against the lower, less bruised part of Alexin’s buttocks while the boy kicked and yelped his protest. None of his slaps were particularly hard. Despite his words, he had *no* intention of hurting the boy’s already tender behind. All he wanted to do was raise sufficient heat to make the boy’s flesh smart a little. The *true* purpose of the spanking was to wear Alexin out and bring him down from his tantrum.

Although Skinner hated the idea of leaving Alexin alone at all, let alone sobbing himself to sleep, there was no doubt in Skinner’s mind that Alexin would have less time to worry about being scared and lonely if his mind was preoccupied with his throbbing buttocks. And, although he was sure Alexin was already too sore to even consider wandering off by himself, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to tenderize the boy’s bottom just a *little* more to be certain.

Besides, as he’d told the boy, he *did* keep his promises.

And it was inarguably sweet, after he’d reduced the boy to a sniveling, red bottomed, apologetic puddle, to pull Alexin into his arms and rock him gently as the boy clung to him for comfort, and promise over and over that all Alexin had to do was go to sleep and, before he knew it, Skinner would have returned for him.

~~~

Skinner left most of the jewelry with Alexin, taking only a few fine gold chains and a single small gemstone with him. It was unlikely the settlement would have anything particularly valuable to sell – such as horses - and it was never a good idea to put too much temptation into stranger’s head. So Skinner took only enough wealth with him to trade for food, clothing and, hopefully, some medicine. While humans had nothing as potent as the Faerie potion, there were drugs and ointments which could ease both Alexin’s and his aches.

As he walked, he decided that, even if the settlers were friendly enough to offer, he had no intention of accepting an invitation to stay with them. Not even for a single night. While both he and Alexin would undoubtedly benefit from a proper night’s sleep in a real bed, the last place they should take shelter in was a settlement so close to the Faerie land. For one thing, those settlements were natural prey for any roving Faerie patrols. For another, it was the first place the Faerie would look for them once they’d realized both he and Alexin had survived the fire and escaped through the ward-gate.

So there was no point in subjecting Alexin to the possible danger of being introduced to other humans when all Skinner actually wanted from the settlers was provisions.

He was glad he’d already made the decision when he finally tracked down the settlement. It was no more than a haphazard collection of hastily constructed huts and the occupants, while not actually threatening, were both wary and unwelcoming.

Although they were willing to trade with him, they didn’t offer him the most basic courtesy of freely sharing even the smallest amount of food or drink. Neither were they particularly talkative despite Skinner’s attempts to draw them into conversation. He didn’t dare come out and ask, straight out, what year it now was, and nothing he did ask garnered him any useful information except that he was many more miles from the place where he’d entered the Faerie land than he’d even suspected, and that some fifteen miles further south there was a far larger settlement of humans.

Although he didn’t actually mention horses, not wanting to imply he had sufficient wealth to purchase one, he gained the distinct impression he might find them at the other settlement.

One gold chain bought him a sufficiency of dried meat, cheese, bread and even a skin of ale. Another purchased him a small bag of medicant items, such as the lotion that prevented wounds from festering and a drug which removed pain but left the patient in a sleepy haze. It would, he decided, be useful for treating Alexin although he wouldn’t dare take the drug himself. It mattered little whether Alexin was half asleep as they walked to the next settlement, but he himself had to be awake and alert. At least he managed to obtain a cream that would ease and heal his burns and welts a little.

He was well aware that his gold was worth ten times what he was purchasing. He was, however, also aware that he had little choice except to let the settlers ‘rob’ him.

His final purchase, and it took both his remaining gold chain and the gem to secure, was a bundle of clothing. Two cloaks of soft deer hide that would be light, warm and soft enough not to chafe either his many burns or Alexin’s delicate skin, a bear skin cloak which would serve as a blanket, a short leather fighting skirt for himself to replace his makeshift loincloth and, finally, the item which cost him the gemstone, a gown for Alexin.

The gown was a poor cousin to the clothes Alexin was used to, yet it was far finer than anything Skinner had expected to find in such a place. Its skirt was merely a silk mix, and its bodice was woven from woolen thread, but it was at least of a soft wool unlike anything Skinner had felt before.

The woman who sold it told Skinner that the thread had been woven from goats rather than sheep. Skinner was sure she was mistaken, since in his experience goats were coarse haired beasts, but he’d been too grateful to argue with her. He doubted Alexin’s skin would tolerate the harsh touch of a sheep’s wool garment and yet he’d known he could only buy silk or lace garments in a city. So although the gown was only of medium quality, to find it in such unlikely surroundings was still a miracle.

Dressed in the gown, Alexin would surely pass not only as a woman but one of at least *some* breeding.

Which, naturally, made him wonder what had brought the woman who sold it to him down to the level of eking out an existence in such a poor settlement. But she hadn’t offered the information of how she’d come to own such a dress, and Skinner had been too polite to ask.

He took a circuitous route back to the place he’d left Alexin, not fully trusting the settlers not to follow him. It wasn’t unheard of for people to ‘trade’, only to then swiftly rob their customers of the items they’d traded. But he wasn’t followed and so assumed, eventually, that the fact he’d paid so much more than the items were worth had satisfied the greed of the settlers sufficiently.

He was gone less than four hours, but his return was greeted with such sobbing gratitude by Alexin that he was sure it had felt far longer to the boy. From Alexin’s red rimmed eyes and wan cheeks, it was obvious the boy had wept almost the entire time he’d been absent.

He felt abruptly guilty that his solution to gaining the boy’s cooperation had been a spanking, no matter how mild. Surely he could have chosen to make sweet gentle love to the boy’s member again and left him in a daze of sleepy happiness rather than sobbing despair. Had they still been in the enchanted forest, he had no doubt the trees would have told him in no uncertain terms that he’d dealt with Alexin’s fear inappropriately.

Perhaps his solution had been swifter and had worked to subdue Alexin’s tantrum just as well as a show of kindness would have. But sometimes the expedient way *wasn’t* the best way, he realized.

So much for his promise the night before to never let the boy regret his decision to stay with him.

He was a fool, he decided.

“You came back,” Alexin sobbed, clinging onto him and shaking with relief. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back. I love you,” he told the boy, wrapping his arms around Alexin’s trembling frame and hugging him tightly. “Though I understand how you might sometimes doubt that.”

“I was soooooo scared,” Alexin announced, nuzzling his face into Skinner’s neck in his desperate need for comfort . “I kept hearing *things*. Moving things. I was scared. And I *hurt*. And you’re MEAN.”

He *was* mean, Skinner decided. Particularly since his practical nature was telling him there was a far quicker way to stop Alexin’s weeping than apologies or hugs.

“Do you want to see what I bought you?” he asked.

Alexin immediately straightened, his tears drying on his cheeks and his luminous eyes transforming to excitement. “You bought me a present?” he demanded.

Skinner nodded.

“I like presents,” Alexin announced happily. “Where is it?”

Skinner chuckled under his breath at the boy’s almost instantaneous transformation from bitter tears to eager excitement.

“Don’t get too excited,” he warned, reaching into his bag “It’s not the kind of gown you’re accustomed to. But it’s better than I expected to find in such a place.”

Alexin’s happy expression *did* fade somewhat as Skinner handed him the gown.

“It’s...nice,” he said, less than sincerely.

“No, it’s not,” Skinner admitted. “But at least it’s a great improvement on what you *are* wearing.”

Alexin looked down at himself, swallowed heavily and regarded the new gown with fresh appreciation.

“There’s no point in you putting it on until we get nearer civilization,” Skinner pointed out.

Alexin’s face fell.

“It will just get dirty and ripped,” Skinner explained. “But we’re little more than a day away from a *real* settlement, so you won’t have to wait too long to wear it.”

“Can I... can I at least try it on?” Alexin asked.

“Of course,” Skinner agreed, with an easy smile.

Alexin scampered happily in the direction of some bushes and dipped behind them to get changed.

Which at least proved to Skinner that the boy’s sore bottom was no longer troubling him as much.

When Alexin emerged a few minutes later, his expression shy but clearly desperate for approval, Skinner whistled low in his throat and loudly exclaimed that Alexin looked wonderful.

It *was* a slight exaggeration.

The gown was a little large for Alexin’s frame – though overly short - and, though pretty, was *clearly* less fine than Alexin’s delicate beauty deserved. The boy looked less like an elegant ‘princess’ than a teenage girl playing dress-up in her mother’s gown.

Yet the important thing was that Alexin *did* definitely look like a ‘girl’ in the garment.

And a stunningly beautiful one.

In fact, with the rope-braids concealing Alexin’s ears, it was only the dramatic color of the boy’s eyes that betrayed his Faerie blood. In all other respects, the boy would pass in any human city as merely a young woman of exceeding beauty.

Who happened to ‘belong’ to a man clearly incapable of dressing her in clothing appropriate to that beauty.

Skinner’s blood boiled slightly at the realization that *he* was probably going to be in more danger when they approached the city than Alexin was. Green eyes or not, every wealthy man in the city would take one look at Skinner’s ‘wife’ and decide that he was more worthy of her than Skinner was.

“Get changed again,” he said, his tone gruff. “I want to cover at least five miles this afternoon, so that we’re sure of reaching the city tomorrow.”

Alexin’s face fell, more at Skinner’s abrupt change of mood than the order, but he obediently dipped behind the bushes again and emerged a few minutes later in his original ripped gown.

Meanwhile, Skinner opened the bag of medicant lotions and slathered a generous amount of the burn cream over his own skin. Then, when Alexin returned to his side, Skinner applied a palmful of the cream which healed broken skin into the sore place between the boy’s buttocks.

Alexin winced at the first cool touch of the cream, and his cheeks flamed with embarrassment at being so handled, but he still sighed with soft relief when Skinner had finished the application.

“That won’t only soothe your pain a little, but it will help your flesh heal,” Skinner advised him.

“I...I still am not certain I can walk so far today as you wish me to,” Alexin mumbled miserably.

“Here,” Skinner replied, offering Alexin the bottle of the pain relieving drug. “Take a sip of this. It will work like the potion, except that it will make you feel drowsy.”

“How can I walk if I’m sleepy?”

“It’s a different kind of drowsy,” Skinner explained. “You’ll feel dreamy and disconnected, as though you’ve drunk a little too much wine. Don’t worry, Alexin, it feels pleasant. Very pleasant. Your pain will ease and be replaced by a feeling of almost euphoric happiness.”

“If it’s so ‘pleasant’, why don’t you take the potion, too?” Alexin demanded suspiciously. “You have many aches and pains also, yet *you* aren’t drinking from the bottle.”

Skinner frowned with irritation. “If I wished you harm, boy, I wouldn’t need to use any damned poison to hurt you. The only reason I’m not drinking the potion is that *one* of us has to remain alert to danger. I can hardly protect you if I’m in a dreamy haze, can I?”

“Oh,” Alexin replied simply, blushing slightly and offering Skinner a sheepish smile of apology. Then, as though determined to prove he trusted Skinner after all, he took a deep, unhesitating draught of the drug.

“GODS,” Skinner gasped, snatching the bottle hurriedly out of Alexin’s hands. “I said a ‘sip’, you idiot.”

Alexin promptly burst into tears.

Skinner stoppered the bottle, thrust it back into his bag and then, rolling his eyes, gathered the boy into his arms and had to waste several minutes assuring Alexin that he hadn’t *meant* to call him an idiot.

Fortunately, Alexin hadn’t drunk a dangerous amount of the drug. But he’d still swallowed at least three times the dose Skinner had intended him to. Even though Skinner hurriedly gave Alexin a meal of bread, cheese and the last of the honeycomb in an effort to dilute the drug’s effects, within minutes Alexin’s pupils had dilated so much that his eyes looked black rather than green.

“Maybe that’s the answer,” Skinner joked, as he stared at the boy’s huge, dark, unfocused eyes. “If I keep you permanently drugged, no one will ever realize you’re Faerie.”

Alexin offered him a broad, dreamy, utterly contented smile.

“And you have absolutely no idea of what I just said, do you?” Skinner chuckled. “I think you’ve well and truly overdosed yourself.”

Not wanting to waste the drug’s effects, Skinner encouraged Alexin to his feet, gathered their few belongings and, instructing the boy to follow him, he began walking.

A minute later, he was forced to turn back and collect Alexin , who was still standing dreamily in the clearing, seemingly unaware that Skinner had left him behind.

“Definitely an overdose,” Skinner muttered wryly, comparing the boy’s contented dreamy stare to the panic he’d shown earlier at the idea of being left alone.

This time he took Alexin by the arm and steered him forwards. He soon discovered that as long as he continued to touch the boy, Alexin was happy to trail after him. But if he let go of Alexin’s sleeve, the boy slowed to a halt and then simply swayed in place with a vague, if smiling, expression on his face.

Skinner also discovered, much to his surprise, that he soon *missed* Alexin’s usual mutters of mild complaint. Skinner actually missed the sound of Alexin’s voice. He’d grown so accustomed to Alexin’s usual combination of inane chatter interspersed with sniveling complaints about his aches, pains and increasing state of dishevelment, that Skinner actually felt *lonely* now that the boy was completely silent.

“I don’t think this potion is a good idea,” he admitted. “All it’s doing is letting you walk when you probably *shouldn’t* be walking and...well, I don’t think I like it when you’re this damned quiet, boy. I’ll be glad when we...”

His voice trailed off suddenly and he pulled Alexin to a sudden halt as, in the periphery of his vision, he saw dark shadows shifting through the surrounding trees. He listened intently and heard what could have been a small twig breaking somewhere to their left.

One hand inched surreptitiously towards his sword, and the other moved to the hilt of one of his knives. He still had no idea of whether they were being stalked by man or beast, but his hunter’s instincts were on high alert. *Some* form of danger definitely surrounded them.

And then, through some cruel twist of fate, as Skinner strained his senses to clearly identify the threat, Alexin woke enough from his stupor for his dazed eyes to finally begin to focus. A wide smile stretched across the boy’s face as he recognized Skinner’s face. He swayed drunkenly, took a weaving step in Skinner’s direction and then made a wild, uncoordinated attempt to give Skinner an affectionate hug.

“Luuuurve youuuuuuu,” he slurred, his body crashing into Skinner’s as he tripped over his own feet, overbalanced and began to fall to the ground.

The boy was so slight that Skinner caught him with ease.

But, because he’d instinctively reached out to catch Alexin and prevent his fall, both of Skinner’s hands were weaponless at the precise moment when the dark shadows suddenly burst free from the cover of the trees and surged towards them.

Wolves. Seven wolves. Not the lean flanked hungry beasts of the Northern Territories but huge, well muscled Southern wolves.

Skinner barely had a moment to identify the nature of their attackers before he was beset on all sides.

He had no choice except to grab Alexin around the waist and pull him tightly into his left side. He knew if he let go of the boy, the wolves would rip him apart in seconds, but holding Alexin so firmly meant Skinner had only one hand free for defense.

The wolves were too close for him to draw his sword. He couldn’t spare the split second it would take for him to pull the blade out of its scabbard. So he grabbed one of his knifes and slashed at his attackers, whirling around in a constant circle to try to prevent any of the wolves attacking him from behind. Yet, no matter how fast he moved nor how viciously he slashed the blade through the air, he knew the only possible way he could survive the attack was if he dropped Alexin. With his left arm free to wield the knife, he could give himself the time to draw his sword with his right. The wolves were clearly well fed, and only *starving* wolves would continue to attack a man armed with a sword.

If he dropped Alexin to the floor, he’d survive. The wolves would be content to snatch the more helpless prey and leave the more dangerous one behind.

If he continued in his attempt to protect the boy, they’d *both* be slain.

Already, the wolves were wearing him down. His circling motion was slowing, his knife slashes were losing their deadly force, the wolves now were managing to nip at his calves and thighs before he could drive them off and, within minutes, he knew one of them would manage to sink its fangs deep enough into his legs to bring him down.

He *had* to let go of the boy.

It was the only sane, logical choice.

Either Alexin would die, or they would *both* die.

And yet, even though he knew it to be true, even though he’d been raised by a people for whom such a choice *was* a matter of logical survival of the fittest rather than a moral crisis, even though he’ *understood* that. Just as he’d seen almost his entire tribe die because the other cities of the Northern Territories lived by that same cruel but necessary philosophy, Skinner knew he *couldn’t* sacrifice Alexin to save himself. Not even if that decision cost *both* of them their lives.

“DAMN YOU!” he roared at the wolves, arcing his knife through the air and slashing at the blurring grey pelts with the insane, beserking fury of a man who’d accepted his own inevitable death and could only hope to take as many enemies down as possible as he fell.

If only he’d had the time to draw his sword. If only Alexin hadn’t been so drugged as to be even more helpless than normal. If only he’d thought to summon the lightning in time to make the wolves burn.

Perhaps it *was* madness rather than a conscious choice. Certainly he had no belief that his words would have any effect. But he still threw back his head and roared, “BURN!” while imagining the snarling wolves were nothing more than kindling.

“BURN, DAMN YOU! BURN!”

And suddenly, all around him, the pelts of the wolves exploded into flames.

Squealing, howling, even screaming, the wolves began to burn. Fleeing in all directions, they turned tail and raced away through the trees, trailing fire in their wake like seven comets, leaving Skinner to sink to his knees, ease Alexin to the floor beside him, and blink in stunned disbelief.

The air was thick with the smell of charred fur and flesh, the ground was blackened with a myriad of paw sized burns – as though the flames had shot even downwards out of the wolves’ bodies – and, except for a few mild bites and scratches on Skinner’s legs, both he and Alexin were alive and unscathed.

Confused and terrified, Skinner grasped Alexin’s thin shoulders and tried to shake the boy to his senses. “How did I do that?” he demanded. “*Did* I truly do that, or am I going mad? Why didn’t you tell me the magic could do that?”

Alexin’s glazed eyes finally focused on his face, and a sweet, dopey smile spread over the boy’s features. “More dance? I like to dance,” he said. Then he looked around the clearing, blinked several times, frowned with confusion and his mouth twisted into a confused pout. “Doggies gone?”

Skinner gaped at the boy in total disbelief, and then he threw back his head and emitted a bark of almost hysterical laughter as he realized that Alexin, in his drugged confusion, hadn’t even realized they were in danger. The boy had thought Skinner was *dancing* with him. And, as for the wolves...

Skinner laughed. Laughed until he cried. And he knew it was just relief and shock and the sweet, sweet disbelief that he was alive. That they were *both* alive. But he still couldn’t stop laughing at the notion that Alexin had thought the wolves were ‘doggies’ just happily dancing along with them in the forest clearing.

So, when he finally regained control of himself and wiped his eyes, he kissed the still dazed boy on his forehead and said, “Remind me *never* to get you drunk, Alexin.”

~~~

They managed to walk another three miles or so before Skinner decided to call it a day.

For one thing, he was too distracted by what had happened with the wolves to pay adequate attention to their route, and he didn’t want to risk that they’d get lost. For another, Alexin was driving him crazy. Now the boy was waking from the drug, his earlier total silence had been replaced by an almost constant need to chatter.

A drugged Alexin was a *scary* Alexin, Skinner decided ruefully.

It wasn’t so much that Alexin was inspired to keep telling Skinner how much he loved him. The problem was that Skinner couldn’t even enjoy the experience because Alexin was *also* declaring love for just about every tree they passed. Given that they were walking through a wood, that swiftly ceased being an amusement and rapidly grew old.

Every time Skinner let go of Alexin’s arm, the boy immediately stumbled over to the nearest tree, hugged it and began loudly declaring it was the most wonderful, beautiful tree he’d ever seen.

Yet, if Skinner kept hold of him, Alexin instead threw his arms around *Skinner* every ten minutes or so and said that he was the most wonderful, beautiful *woman* he’d ever seen.

Something which, even though Skinner tried to tell himself it was meant as a compliment, he found hard to stomach.

Particularly since Alexin seemed equally enamored of the damned trees.

So he decided there was nothing for it than to let the boy sleep the drug off and hope Alexin woke up in the morning with his senses fully engaged once more.

His only problem with the idea was his worry about how he’d handle his own urges when the dark magic inevitably woke in him that evening.

How could he drink the tears of a boy who was so drug happy that he’d probably just laugh his way through a spanking?

Skinner racked his brains as he built a fire and made camp for the night and decided to see whether it would be possible to slake his own needs by simply drinking the boy’s seed while simultaneously bringing himself to pleasure. He thought that if he tried that *before* the need to mount the boy came upon him, it might suffice to quench his internal fire.

Fortunately, Alexin was thoroughly cooperative with his plan. The drug stripped the boy of all his usual inhibitions and so he threw himself into Skinner’s plan to debauch him with almost frightening enthusiasm. When he finally released his seed, with an ear shattering howl of pleasure, he spilled so much fluid that Skinner almost choked.

And, as the flood of honey sweet seed filled him with such a rush of sensation that *he* felt drugged, Skinner dared to hope that the magic had been appeased by such a substantial offering, wrapped his arms around Alexin’s now insensate body, and let his own eyes close into sleep.

Neither of them woke until the dawn.

Skinner admittedly woke feeling a little ‘odd’. He certainly felt no urge to mount the boy or drive him to tears, rather than simply taking his usual morning fill of Alexin’s seed. But he still felt a little strange. Almost drained. As though by depriving himself of the boy’s tears he’d created some imbalance inside himself.

But it wasn’t a ‘painful’ feeling, nor one that compelled him to take action, and so, since he never *wanted* to make the boy cry anyway, he put his vague feelings of disquiet out of his mind and prepared their breakfast.

To Skinner’s considerable relief, Alexin declared he felt a lot more comfortable and was sure he’d be able to walk without the aid of the drug as long as they didn’t move too quickly. It wasn’t until they were walking that a still sleepy, but thankfully otherwise normal, Alexin nervously admitted he had no memory whatsoever of the previous day’s events.

“Probably just as well,” Skinner replied.

He *did* tell the boy about the wolves however – though he deliberately underplayed the danger, not wanting to frighten Alexin unnecessarily – because he needed to know what Alexin thought about his ability to set them on fire. “Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Alexin shook his head. “If my mother had the ability to do that, she’d hardly need an alliance with Ariana, would she?”

“No,” Skinner agreed. The same thought had already occurred to him. If he could set a pack of wolves alight, then presumably he could do the same to any creature. Even a human being. And if the Faerie could set fire to people with their magic alone, they’d have no need for an army to drive humans out of their land.

“What you did is... well it’s like one of the old legends,” Alexin said, a little hesitantly. “It’s like one of the things everyone says the Faerie *used* to be able to do. Like...well, like it’s an *older* kind of magic you’re wielding, if that makes any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, except that it *doesn’t* make sense,” Skinner replied. “I’m not even Faerie, well except for there being a fraction of Faerie blood in my veins. Perhaps there’s something particularly special about *your* magic, Alexin. Maybe that’s why so many queens wanted to marry you.”

“I don’t think so,” Alexin replied, with a shrug. “I think they just all thought I was unusually pretty.”

“That’s because you are,” Skinner chuckled.

Alexin preened a little at the compliment and grinned happily.

“Is it possible that it’s the fact I’m a man wielding the magic which makes the difference?” Skinner asked suddenly.

Alexin shrugged again. “It makes the whole situation strange, if it’s true that males carry the magic but can’t use it. Then again, it *does* seem peculiar that you managed to steal my magic at all, doesn’t it?”

“It makes me wonder what would happen if two full-blood Faerie males lay together,” Skinner replied. “Would the two magics negate each other, or would both males then have the ability to use each other’s magic?”

“Faerie males *never* lie with each other,” Alexin said firmly.

“No, they don’t, do they?” Skinner replied, his gaze distant and thoughtful.

“Are you...are you having another big thought?” Alexin asked tentatively.

“I think perhaps I am,” Skinner said, with cautious excitement. “Answer me something, Alexin. How could a group of females from a human tribe be impregnated against their wills by Faerie males?”

Alexin stopped walking and stared at Skinner with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “That isn’t possible,” he said.

“Why isn’t it?”

“Because...well, because Faerie males aren’t capable of doing such a perverted thing.”

“As mating with monkey-people?”

Alexin’s eyes flared with alarm. “That’s not what I said,” he blurted. “You can’t spank me if I didn’t *say* it.”

Skinner laughed gently. “I know. I’m just teasing you, boy. What I want to know is whether you’re saying it isn’t possible because it’s an unthinkable ‘perversion’ or that it isn’t *possible*.”

“It isn’t possible,” Alexin said firmly.

“Why?”

Alexin blushed furiously. “Because...well, because a Faerie male is mounted. He doesn’t mount. He doesn’t know *how* to mount. And a Faerie male wouldn’t *ever* act against a female’s wishes. Even the wishes of a *human* female.”

“Exactly,” Skinner grinned.

Alexin frowned. “Exactly *what*?”

“The males of your culture aren’t capable of rape. Forgive me for embarrassing you by saying this, but the only way *you’d* ever be able to lie with a woman is if she initiated and controlled the coupling. Even if she were smaller than you, your upbringing is such that you’d submit completely to her authority over you.”

“I can’t imagine a woman being smaller than me,” Alexin replied, “but I accept that you’re right. Even the *thought* of confronting a female face to face makes me feel ill.”

“But you may have noted I said ‘culture’ rather than species.”

“So?”

“So I’m suggesting that not *all* Faerie are the same.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying that in the Northern Territories, the Faerie are completely different to those here in the south. For one thing, they don’t terrorize humans for sport. For another, their males *are* obviously capable of mounting females against their wishes. I’m proof of that. Which suggests to me that the life of a Faerie male is somewhat different within *their* culture.”

“But what does that have to do with the way you can use my magic?”

“I don’t know,” Skinner admitted. “But I’m beginning to suspect it has *everything* to do with it. You told me that most of the magic left the land after the great war when the two continents split apart. What if the magic left because most of the *males* left? What if it was a war between the male and female Faerie, and somehow most of the males ended up in the Northern Territories while most of the females remained in the south?”

“I see what you’re saying, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. The Southern Territories *won* the battle and banished the losers to the north. Why would the females banish so many males that they now struggle to keep their population going at all?”

“Fear,” Skinner suggested. “What if the history you were taught is wrong? Maybe the Southern Territories *didn’t* win. Maybe they couldn’t win. But what if, perhaps, they found a way to end the war before they lost it? Imagine this scenario. Two armies, one male, one female, and the female had all the physical strength but the males had the magic. And the females *knew* they’d ultimately lose, so they somehow managed to use the males’ magic they’d stolen to break the land in two with them on one side and the males on the other. So the banishment wasn’t a physical sending of the ‘losers’ away, but something that somehow prevents the males from crossing the ocean dividing the two lands and returning home.”

“But that kind of banishment would take magic, which the females don’t have,” Alexin pointed out reasonably. “And, anyway, if all the males ended up in the Northern Territories, how come there are male Faerie in the Southern Territories now?”

“Think about it, Alexin. Every single male Faerie alive could have been banished at the time of the war and the females would still have ended up with *some* new males. Because at least *some* of the females would have been carrying boy children inside their wombs. But with so *few* males to start again with, interbreeding would have been rife and that could be why so many of the current male children die. This disease of the blood you told me about is an inherited trait. As for the males in the north... well, it *would* explain why they took human females to mate, wouldn’t it? Perhaps they have few, or no, females of their own.”

“You’re making my head hurt,” Alexin complained. “I don’t think I like big thoughts. I still don’t understand why any of this matters even if it *is* true.”

“Because the whole balance of the Faerie evolution depended on the idea that only a female could use a male’s magic. But if a *male* can use another male’s magic, then what need does a male truly have for a female?”

“Females are bigger, stronger, they…”

“Why does a male need a female’s strength if he has the magic to destroy an enemy with a mere thought?”

“The race can’t survive without females to bear children,” Alexin pointed out.

“Maybe so. But that would have relegated females to no more than brood mares, wouldn’t it? The females would have become what, in effect, they have now made their males. I think, at some point in time, back when your society was one of symbiotic equals, two Faerie males lay with each other and accidentally learned they had no need of their womenfolk. I think the females panicked and attempted to take control of the males before the knowledge spread. I think the result was what you call the great war and the fallout of that war is the culture in which you were raised. Where females keep males so tightly controlled because of their terror that you might again learn your potential to defy them. Though so much time has passed that I doubt they even remember *why* they control you as they do. History has a habit of being rewritten, Alexin. The females alive today probably are no more aware of the real truth than you are.”

“But if the males *did* have all the power of the magic, how were they defeated?”

“Because the type of savagery the Faerie women indulge in isn’t a learned behavior. It’s an intrinsic part of their make up. Anyone can be taught to act in a cruel way, but no one can teach someone to *enjoy* performing that cruelty in the way that all your females clearly do. Whereas you, Alexin... well, I don’t see that you could *ever* be capable of enjoying another’s pain. I don’t doubt that a lot of your behavior patterns have been drilled into you since childhood, but your *basic* nature is clearly as gentle as the basic nature of your females is violent. So, perhaps your males found themselves with the ability to defeat the females but were psychologically incapable of using their magic in such a violent way.”

“Then there was no need for a war at all, was there?” Alexin demanded. “If the males weren’t going to use the magic against the females anyway, what was the problem with them learning how to use it?”

“You’re right. There *was* no need for the war. It stemmed from female fear and aggression. The males never *wanted* to fight. But neither were they prepared to accept the conditions the frightened females intended to impose upon them. So they stood their ground, in the hope the females would back down and let life return to how it had been. Instead of which, the females chose to banish them and begin again from scratch.”

Alexin’s face twisted into a pout.

“What’s wrong?”

“You,” Alexin said, shaking his head in confusion. “Why...why pretend this was just...just a ‘big thought’ if you actually *know* these things you speak of?”

Skinner blinked with confusion for a moment, and then his face abruptly drained of color.

Alexin was right. He’d started the conversation just as a way of thinking out loud but, by the end, he was telling Alexin *facts*, reciting *history*, speaking as though he *knew* what he was saying was absolute truth.

He knew nothing of the Faerie.

Nothing.

Yet he spoke their tongue.

Fluently.

“What’s happening to me?” he gasped, more terrified now than the boy. “Where did that knowledge come from, Alexin? And how...how is it that I can speak your tongue?”

Alexin just stared at him with frightened eyes and shook his head helplessly. “Perhaps...perhaps it’s the magic telling you these things,” he suggested hesitantly.

“Perhaps,” Skinner agreed. “But I could speak your tongue from the moment I set foot in the Faerie land. That was days before I took your magic, Alexin.”

“Then perhaps it’s your *own* magic?”

“I have no magic.”

“How do you know?” Alexin demanded. “You had enough magic to enter the ward-gate.”

“I had enough Faerie *blood* to enter the ward-gate,” Skinner corrected.

“If you have Faerie blood and you’re male, you have magic. Maybe its only a *little* magic, just like you have only a little blood. But still... you must have *some* magic of your own.”

“Even if you’re right, male’s can’t use their own magic and, anyway, magic doesn’t give the gift of language, does it?”

“Maybe it does if you’re mainly human,” Alexin shrugged. He frowned for a moment, then brightened considerably as a new thought struck him. “It must be doing *something* other than what it *should* be doing, otherwise you wouldn’t taste so bad.”

Skinner blinked at the boy in astonishment for a moment, and then he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“Did I tell a joke?” Alexin asked, obviously confused.

“Alexin, I have to laugh or I’d cry,” Skinner chuckled. “I’ve never been so sweetly kicked in the balls before.”

“I...I *kicked* you?”

“Rather painfully. A man doesn’t actually *enjoy* being told he tastes ‘bad’, Alexin.”

“Oh,” Alexin said miserably. “Even if you do?”

Skinner erupted into a gale of laughter again. “Oh well,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I suppose a relationship can’t survive with *both* people having huge egos, and yours is more than large enough for both of us.”

“What’s an ‘ego’?”

“In your case, it’s what tells you how beautiful you are,” Skinner chuckled.

Alexin brightened. “This ‘ego’ is the reason I know I’m beautiful?”

Skinner grinned and nodded.

“Then I’m glad I have a *huge* one,” Alexin agreed happily. “Though maybe it’s huge because I *am* so very beautiful.”

Skinner shook his head in mock despair. “Come on, oh most beautiful one. The faster we walk to the city, the faster you’ll be able to put on your new gown and look even *more* beautiful.”

~~~

They journeyed about ten miles that day. Far less than Skinner had hoped to achieve. He’d envisaged them arriving at the city well before sundown, even allowing for the slow pace required by Alexin’s injuries.

And his own aches, to be honest. The days of torture, followed by their flight, had taken much of his own physical strength. His burns and welts were healing now, considerably aided by the lotion he’d purchased, but he still had an overwhelming sense of sheer bodily exhaustion that he knew wouldn’t be eased without some serious rest. Without the Faerie potion to dull his nerve endings, he was constantly aware of how many of his muscles had been ripped and torn during the torture, and his battle with the wolves had only exacerbated the problem.

But it was neither his aches nor those of the boy which slowed their pace to less than two miles per hour. It was the terrain. The city was, it turned out, perhaps only a short distance as a bird flew but neither he nor Alexin were birds. Neither were they mountain goats, unfortunately, because the path that led them southwards through the hills towards the city had seemingly been designed purely for four legged athletes.

Several times during the day, the path narrowed so much it was barely passable, and it led them over perilous ravines which made even Skinner pale at the thought of falling. Alexin, it must be said, met each terrifying drop with floods of tears and a refusal to move onwards until Skinner had soothed, petted and caressed him back into compliance.

Not an easy task for Skinner to accomplish since, every time Alexin cried, he found himself struggling more against the urge to greedily lap the boy’s tears with his tongue than against any sense of impatience at the enforced delays. He manfully resisted his own desires, understanding that taking pleasure in Alexin’s frightened tears would destroy *any* chance he had to calm the boy down and would lead instead to Alexin accusing him of deliberately creating a scenario in which he had free access to the tears he craved.

Alexin’s already indecently short skirts became even shorter over the journey, as Skinner ripped another swathe of fabric off their length to form a short plaited rope. He used it to tie the boy to his sword belt, as a kind of safety harness, so that if Alexin slipped on the narrow, stony paths he would be saved from falling off the edge by Skinner’s own body weight.

On more than one occasion the rope *did* save Alexin’s life, and each of those short, terrifying moments, as Alexin tottered on the brink of an abyss, resulted in yet another long desperate session of soothing and petting before Alexin stopped trembling enough to attempt to move onward again.

So although they *did* spy the outline of the city before nightfall, it was still far in the distance – another several miles – and, although the path became wider and less treacherous from that point onwards, the light was already failing, casting shadows over the ground, and the only sane choice was to camp for the night once more and walk the last few miles the following morning.

Now they’d left the shelter of the trees behind and were on the exposed side of a rugged hill, the descending darkness brought with it a deep chill that swiftly ate into their bones. Even with the bearskin cloak to cushion their flesh against the cold of the ground, and the deerskin cloaks wrapped around their shoulders, Skinner was soon uncomfortably chilled, and Alexin – being so much thinner and more delicate – was so cold that his teeth were literally chattering.

So Skinner walked up and down the rocky path, collecting endless handfuls of coarse rock grass, swathes of lichens and bundles of weeds, which he then piled to form a fire.
A green, wet and therefore inevitably smoky fire, which he’d have struggled to light at all without the benefit of the magic, but a fire regardless.

He knew that any fire without real wood would burn quickly and soon extinguish but, hopefully, he and Alexin would be warm enough by that point that their shared body heat would then be sufficient to keep them comfortable through the remainder of the night.

He was feeling proud of his ingenuity, and relieved that Alexin’s misery would soon be eased – for the boy had reached the point of sniveling loudly once more.

“Burn,” he said, gesturing at the piled grasses with an almost flamboyant motion of his hand.

Nothing happened.

“Burn.”

And still the grasses lay wet and unresponsive, as he and Alexin continued to shiver with cold.

Skinner shook his head in disbelief. Although he was still uncomfortable with the idea of having ‘magic’, over the last couple of days he had at least accepted his ability to create fire. And his vanquishing of the wolves had surely proven that he could burn *anything*, so the fact the grasses were damp and green should have made no difference to whether they’d catch flame or not.

“BURN,” he roared.

Yet, once again, the kindling ignored him.

Skinner turned to Alexin with a bemused expression. “The...the magic’s left me, Alexin. Perhaps...perhaps I used it up against the wolves. Maybe...maybe there’s only just so much magic to draw upon.”

Alexin didn’t answer, he just burst into tears and hugged himself miserably at the prospect of remaining frozen all night on the side of the hill.

Skinner scooted over to him, threw his arms around the boy’s trembling shoulders and tried to rub some circulation back into Alexin’s body.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It’s going to be alright, Alexin. It isn’t *that* cold. Not killing cold. If you snuggle into me tight and we wrap ourselves snuggly inside the cloaks, we’ll be fine.”

Alexin snuffled despondently, but quickly nuzzled his body into Skinner’s with the clear intention of stealing whatever heat Skinner had to offer.

Doing so brought his face so near that Skinner licked absently at the boy’s tear stained cheeks as he adjusted Alexin in his arms.

“Perhaps I’m just tired. Maybe I need sleep to replenish the magic,” he soothed, though he could feel the faint tingling in his extremities that suggested it wasn’t ‘sleep’ that his body truly craved. “I’ll attempt to light the fire again in the morning. Too late, I know, but at least we’ll know for certain whether the magic’s truly gone or whether I just need to be more rested to burn th...”

A few feet away, the piled grass burst into roaring flame.

For a moment, the two men just stared at each other incredulously. Then they scrambled over to the roaring fire and basked in its sudden, glorious heat.

“What happened?” Skinner demanded, shaking his head in confusion. “When I told it to burn it wouldn’t, but then all I did was *say* the word ‘burn’ and it caught flame.”

Alexin was silent for a long time, but then raised his face to Skinner’s and calmly said, “You drank my tears, Skinner. That’s what happened.”

The truth of Alexin’s words struck Skinner like a blow. The night before he’d refrained from making Alexin cry and had satisfied himself merely with the boy’s seed. All day he’d resisted the urge to lick and lap whenever Alexin had cried. That odd, strange sensation he’d felt earlier that morning, that feeling of something missing within him, had been his body’s way of trying to warn him that, although he could *survive* without drinking the boy’s tears, it was the tears that sustained his ability to use Alexin’s magic.

It seemed the magic that bound them was twofold. The binding magic was purely sexual. His desire to taste of the boy’s seed – or mount Alexin’s flesh – was of a separate order to the compulsion he had for Alexin’s tears.

“I’m beginning to understand, Alexin,” he whispered, as his mind raced furiously to absorb the information that was suddenly flowing into his brain as if arriving there by magic itself. “The *binding* magic, the magic that ties me to you, forcing me to need you and so to protect you, is satisfied simply by our coupling. If I should never taste your tears again, I would survive that deprivation because what my body truly *needs* is simply the taste of your seed and the feel of your flesh.

“But I *crave* your tears, because they are of a different magic. The magic which allows me to steal your power for myself. When I allow my need for your body to overwhelm me, my mind loses the ability to distinguish between the two different desires and simply demands satisfaction of both. But when, as last night, I satisfy myself *before* the urge strikes me, I retain the ability to deny my craving for the magic of your tears.”

“Then,” Alexin said hesitantly. “If...if you don’t drink my tears, you remain bound to me but lose the gift of using my magic for your own?”

“Yes,” Skinner agreed excitedly. “I don’t *have* to spank you, Alexin. I don’t *have* to cause you pain in our couplings. I don’t even *have* to mount you. As long as you permit me to keep drinking your seed, I never need to hurt you again.”

Alexin was silent for a moment, pondering Skinner’s words, and then he sighed softly, “That doesn’t seem very fair, does it?”

“What?” Skinner demanded incredulously.

“That I should steal your protection, yet deny you my magic,” Alexin explained thoughtfully. “My occasional pain is the cost I *should* pay in exchange for your protection.”

“No,” Skinner denied angrily. “When people love each other there is no *cost*. Relationships aren’t alliances to be sealed with bartered exchanges such as that. To touch you is its own reward, Alexin. I delight in simply tasting you. And, anyway, I’d *want* to protect you even if that weren’t true. Whatever you think, whatever I may have said previously, I don’t own your body. You own it. I have no claim to it at all. And even if you deny me access to it forever, I’ll still protect you with my life because I love you.”

“Will you?” Alexin asked wryly. “Before the magic came upon you, you oft times considered my death as an option, didn’t you? In the dungeon you even attempted to strangle me. Yesterday, when the wolves attacked us, are you *certain* it was love that made you protect me, rather than the call of my magic to your blood?”

Skinner was sobered and confused by the boy’s words. In truth he had no way of knowing whether the feelings he felt for Alexin were born purely of the magic or would have eventually developed upon their own.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he admitted heavily. “We’ll never know for sure, will we? The important thing is that I’ve finally understood how to control my desires and prevent myself from ever abusing you again. Perhaps *this* is why the male Faerie never fully used their powers against the females. Because harnessing the power requires pain to the male who holds it. If you Faerie males are as intrinsically gentle as I suspect, I can’t see any of you deliberately harming one another simply for the ability to use each other’s magic.”

Alexin absorbed his comments for a few moments, then said, “Then perhaps that proves Faerie males to be as stupid as our females claim.”

“Huh?” Skinner said, his mouth dropping open in astonishment.

“I’ve learned much this last week, Skinner. I’ve learned that a male *can* be brave and clever and strong, as you are. I’ve learned that a male can be as brutal as a female.”

Skinner winced.

“But I’ve also learned that brutality can be tempered by kindness and that it isn’t how someone behaves toward you that is as important as how someone *feels* about you,” Alexin continued thoughtfully.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying to me,” Skinner admitted.

“My...my mother *always* behaved towards me with exceeding kindness,” Alexin explained. “All my life, her actions led me to *believe* that she cared greatly for me. Yet I heard her say that she had merely *pretended* that affection as a way to control me. Her behavior to me was never brutal, but her intent was cruel.”

“Yes,” Skinner agreed sorrowfully. Though he was relieved in a way that Alexin had finally abandoned his attempt to believe his mother loved him, he still was saddened that the boy had to face such a cruel reality.

“Whereas *you* have often hurt me,” Alexin continued. “Sometimes hurt me greatly. Yet I know you *do* care for me in a way that no one has ever cared for me in the past. I no longer believe in my mother’s love, but I *do* believe in yours. And...and though the pain frightens me, I...I... well, I wouldn’t exchange it for the life I had before. Perhaps it is the magic which makes me feel this way, but the reasons for how I am feeling aren’t relevant because I *do* feel this way, regardless of whether or not I *should*.”

“Thank you, Alexin,” Skinner said, his tone both humble and grateful. “As you say, the source of our feelings is irrelevant now. All that matters to me is that I *do* love you, and hearing you say you return my feelings is... well, it feels good. Wonderfully good.”

“So...so I don’t mind if you...”

“No,” Skinner interrupted before the boy could complete the offer. “Don’t even tempt me, Alexin. My mind is settled on this matter, and you won’t change it.”

Alexin’s eyes flashed with sudden, unfamiliar temper. “I had *better* be able to change it,” he spat. “Magic or no, I feel love for you. Perhaps I wish it weren’t so, but I have to face it as truth. Even the thought of being without you makes me feel ill and afraid. And again, that’s probably just the magic working inside me but it’s still a fact I can’t deny.
But...but I *won’t* belong to someone who won’t look after me. I WON’T!”

Skinner had the distinct impression that if Alexin had been standing, he would have been stamping his foot like a petulant child. The image amused him enough that he found Alexin’s tantrum endearing rather than irritating.

“How can you even *dream* I won’t look after you, my love?” he soothed.

Alexin wasn’t appeased in the slightest. “My mother’s guards are undoubtedly pursuing us. The wolves that attacked us yesterday were proof that we’re in constant danger from wild beasts. The people in the city we approach might take one look at me and decide that my Faerie blood should be spilled for their vengeance against my people. And without my magic you can’t even light a damned fire to keep me warm,” he declared. “And you expect me to be *grateful* that you choose not to take and use my magic in my protection? You think I should be *happy* that you promise not to spank or mount me? Do you truly believe I fear your touch more than I fear my fate if you *don’t* drink my tears? Should we be beset by wolves this night, will the fact I die with my buttocks un-reddened give me comfort as my throat is torn open? WILL IT?”

Skinner was so stunned, he could only silently gape at the boy for several moments as Alexin’s furious words slammed through his head like a series of unexpected blows.

Alexin was right. Damn it, but the boy was *right*. His survival depended on Skinner taking and using every drop of magic Alexin could provide, regardless of the method of its extraction.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head like a confused bear. “You’re right. This time it’s *you* who’s had the ‘big thought’ and I who’s acting the ‘idiot’. I thought that proving I had the ability to suppress my base urges would prove me a better man in your eyes. I expected your gratitude that I could be so selfless as to deny my own desires for the sake of your comfort. But my true selfishness was in wanting to appease my own conscience instead of truly considering the implications of such a huge decision. Because I can’t bear that I treat you as I do, I clung immediately to the first opportunity of changing my behavior. What I failed to do was consider what the decision would mean. In saving you from small hurts at my own hands, I risk your life at the hands of others.”

Alexin gave a deep sigh of relief and relaxed in his arms. “You understand,” he whispered. “You truly *do* understand.”

“I do,” Skinner agreed apologetically.

“So you’ll continue to drink my tears?”

Skinner nodded solemnly. “I will,” he promised.

“And...and you’ll continue to mount me?”

Skinner startled. “Mount you? No. We never agreed upon that. It’s only your tears that I require to utilize your magic.”

“Do you *know* that for certain?” Alexin demanded.

“Your tears alone restored my ability to make fire,” Skinner pointed out.

“Yes,” Alexin agreed. “But it’s your riding of me that gave you the ability that no *female* Faerie has. The ability to use the fire as a weapon.”

“We don’t know that,” Skinner argued.

“Yes, we do,” Alexin snapped. “Because all women drink the tears and all women take the seed into their bodies. So the only *possible* difference between two males lying together and the mating of a male and female is the *way* in which two males mate.”

“I see the logic of your thinking, Alexin, but it’s logic flawed by too little information. It may simply be that the merging of the males’ magics is what creates the additional power.”

“You claim not to have any magic,” Alexin retorted. “And though I am certain you have *some* magic, it’s too little to explain the way that you can use mine so well.”

“Perhaps,” Skinner allowed. “But the mounting truly pains you, Alexin. How can I do that to you if I’m not certain it *is* truly necessary?”

Alexin flushed hotly and he dipped his eyes to his lap. “After the first times, it...didn’t hurt so badly,” he admitted. “The last time you mounted me, before what happened at the ward-gate, it was... well, it was almost... pleasurable.”

Skinner blushed a little himself. “You mean the time I stretched you slowly with my fingers and touched that place deep inside of you, then used my hand to draw out your own seed while I rode you?”

Alexin glanced cautiously up at him through a curtain of dark lashes, and nodded an obviously embarrassed agreement.

Skinner took a deep, thoughtful breath. His mind had been so plagued by his guilt over his brutality at the ward-gate that he’d actually forgotten that the penultimate time he’d ridden the boy *had* seemed to bring them some mutual pleasure.

“I’ve...I’ve lain with men before, Alexin,” he admitted hesitantly. “And they all found considerable pleasure in being loved in such a way. Initially, there’s always a little pain, but with practice a man not only becomes accustomed to taking a member inside himself but learns to enjoy and even relish the experience.”

“Have...have you ever...?”

Skinner shook his head. “I never found myself wanting to take that role,” he admitted. “Not because I feared pain but... well, because I see myself as... Gods, how do I explain this without upsetting you further?”

“It’s because you’re naturally like a woman, so you take the role of a woman when mating,” Alexin said firmly.

Skinner chuckled. “I would have said the opposite,” he laughed, “but the principle is the same. In human society, rightly or wrongly, a male usually takes a more dominant role in the bedchamber. He does the mounting. And while I mean no disrespect by this, either to you or my previous bed partners, I cannot perceive myself taking a submissive role because it... well, it offends my sense of myself as a man. It doesn’t mean I think *you* less of a man,” he added hastily, “but you’re... well, a *different* kind of man.”

Alexin’s response was to laugh gaily. “You are *so* funny,” he announced. “You’re a warrior, Skinner. Of course you expect to be the one who does the mounting. I think... well, I think I’d be rather worried if you weren’t so womanly in your ways.”

“I still find it strange that you say such things,” Skinner laughed. “But I do accept that you’re trying to compliment me.”

“The need is coming upon you now, isn’t it?” Alexin asked.

Swallowing heavily, Skinner nodded. He’d been aware of the growing heat in his blood for several minutes.

“Then it’s time for us to stop talking and simply do it,” Alexin announced calmly.

“Not tonight. You’re still too sore. Tie my wrists again, Alexin.”

“No.”

Skinner blinked in astonishment. “I said, tie my wrists, Alexin. I agree that I *will* ride you again, but not yet. Not tonight.”

“No,” Alexin repeated firmly, though his eyes were wide and frightened at his own defiance. “I’d rather risk limping all the way to the city tomorrow, than arriving there and discovering your magic isn’t fully empowered.”

“We don’t even know that we’ll face danger there, Alexin. You could suffer this pain for no reason,” Skinner pointed out, though his member was already throbbing so eagerly at the thought of re-entering Alexin’s body that his protest was more form than substance.

“You said earlier that my body is my own,” Alexin reminded him. “If you truly meant that, then isn’t it *my* choice of whether this should happen? Do I not have the right to risk hurt to a part of myself, if that reassures me of my overall safety?”

“Oh Gods,” Skinner growled, grabbing the boy and throwing him face down over his lap. “Why am I even *trying* to argue with you?”

He brought his palm down so firmly on Alexin’s backside that the boy squealed in automatic protest.

The cry broke through Skinner’s lust haze enough that he managed to grunt, “Last chance to change your mind, boy.”

“Just DO it,” Alexin yelled back defiantly.

It was enough to quench the last vestiges of Skinner’s control. His hand began a rapid tattoo on the boy’s buttocks until they were so reddened that even the fading bruises were drowned by fierce scarlet heat.

Then he threw Alexin onto his back, his body surging with greed for the sensations he’d denied himself for too long, and he feasted on the sweet, addictive tears streaming freely down the boy’s cheeks.

Yet, despite his lust and need, he retained enough sense to blindly grab the jar of cream out of his bag and slather its contents between Alexin’s buttocks while he licked at the boy’s tears. And his fingers were urgent but careful as they thrust inside Alexin’s swollen heat to open the way for his eager member. With his first and middle finger of his right hand, he thrust deep inside the boy’s passage in search of the nub of flesh that would turn Alexin’s pained yelps into cries of pleasure. His left hand squeezed and tormented the boy’s member until it stiffened into hard, ridged excitement, and it was only when the boy was panting and trembling with as much excitement as pain that Skinner allowed his own eager flesh to burrow into the balm of Alexin’s body.

Their coupling was fast and fierce, Skinner’s need to slake his neglected urges too powerful for him to resist simply slamming his hips eagerly against the boy’s heated flesh. Yet his left hand still, almost of its own volition, continued to tend to Alexin’s member, his thumb rubbing incessantly against the small protrusion at its root, so that the boy was writhing and gasping beneath him, his face contorted with almost agonized pleasure .

So it was Alexin who first howled a scream of release, as Skinner’s manipulation of that tiny part of his flesh ripped the seed out of his body, and it was the thrashing of Alexin’s orgasm that tipped Skinner over the edge into his own scream of satisfaction.

Finally satiated, Skinner found only the energy to pull the cloaks firmly over their entwined bodies and then fell into an immediate, heavy, exhausted sleep.

~~~

Alexin spent most of the next morning pouting.

Not because he was sore – though he was - but because Skinner refused to express any concern or guilt over Alexin’s inflamed bottom.

“You can’t have it both ways, Alexin,” Skinner told him firmly, when the boy first raised the issue of his discomfort. “If, at night, you demand that I put aside my conscience and mount you regardless of any pain I might cause you, don’t expect me to grovel for your forgiveness the following morning. I *am* sorry that you’re in pain, but I won’t apologize to you for it. The choice was your own.”

So Alexin spent most of the walk to the city muttering under his breath that Skinner was a cruel, unfeeling brute who clearly didn’t deserve a boy like him.

Skinner, sad to say, found the boy’s sulking more amusing than irritating. Although he loved the boy, perhaps even *adored* him, he refused to spend the rest of his life being manipulated by Alexin’s tantrums. He supposed it wouldn’t have hurt him to make appropriate cooing noises to satisfy the boy’s desire to be pampered and clucked over, but he thought it a poor precedent to set. Alexin had to learn that if he wanted the freedom to make his own choices, he had to pay the consequences of those choices.

Truth be told, Skinner was incredibly impressed by the decision Alexin had made. In little more than a week the boy had made a great leap from being a totally submissive and obedient creature to one who was not only demanding some respect but was beginning to show some true maturity in his decisions.

Now all Alexin had to learn was how to *sulk* a little more maturely.

Still, the boy’s nature was too sunny for him to stay angry for long. When Skinner decided they were near enough the city that they were likely to possibly meet other travelers, he called a halt and told Alexin to change into his new gown. That alone was enough to put a small smile on the boy’s face but the fact that Skinner insisted on taking out the comb and re-grooming Alexin’s hair to perfection restored the boy to complete, purring happiness.

“Do I look beautiful?” Alexin demanded. “Truly beautiful?”

“Stunningly beautiful,” Skinner assured him, with a tolerant smile. “And in the city we’ll surely be able to purchase you an even finer gown, so you’ll look even *more* beautiful. Though that’s hardly possible to imagine.”

Alexin shivered with excitement, the offer of new clothing seeming to quench a lot of his fear over entering the human settlement.

“Can I have new boots? Softer boots?”

“I’ll buy you a pair of the softest boots we can find. Two pairs. Lots of pairs.”

“And...and underwear?”

Resisting the urge to point out it would probably be a waste of money, considering the fact he’d inevitably just rip it off the boy in his urge to mate with him, Skinner agreed.

“Lace underwear?” Alexin queried suspiciously.

“Lace, silk, whatever,” Skinner agreed, beginning to tire rapidly of the subject.

“And a proper ribbon for my hair? And a real brush? And a...”

“*Anything* you want,” Skinner interrupted irritably.

Alexin cooed happily, clearly unconcerned by Skinner’s tone.

Skinner hated to break the boy’s mood, but he couldn’t risk Alexin’s safety by not raising the next subject.

“Whatever happens, Alexin. You mustn’t speak inside the city unless we are alone in a room.”

Alexin blinked in obvious confusion. “What?”

“Although no one will *know* your tongue is Faerie, they *will* know your tongue isn’t human, because your speak patterns are unlike any human tongue,” Skinner pointed out. “So you must remain silent. None will comment upon that, assuming you to simply be painfully shy. Or perhaps even that I am one of the rare brutish men who bids my wife silent in the company of strangers. It also would be a good idea if you keep your head bowed as much as possible. Try not to lift your face at all and, hopefully, your long lashes will obscure the color of your eyes. In that way, perhaps few people will even realize you have Faerie blood.”

Alexin’s chin dropped to his chest, obscuring his face completely from Skinner’s view, and he began to visibly tremble.

“Please, Alexin,” Skinner begged uncomfortably. “Don’t let my words frighten you. I’m sure everything will be fine. Possibly I’m being overcautious but the most important thing is to ensure your safety, so I’d rather be too careful than not careful enough.”

But, to his surprise, although when Alexin looked up his eyes were filled with tears, the boy’s expression wasn’t fearful but angry.

“It’s not fair!” he declared. “I thought...thought to escape the veil. Instead I just ran to a different kind of veiling, didn’t I? What point is there to my beauty if none will ever see it, Skinner? A wife would have concealed me in her chambers or veiled me head to toe. *You* simply tell me to walk always with my face to the ground so none can see me. The effect is the same, is it not?”

Skinner sighed heavily. He understood the boy’s complaint. What point *was* there to beauty if it was never seen? He ignored the dark, greedy voice at the back of his head that capered with glee at the thought of none but himself feasting his eyes on Alexin’s beauty.

“I’m not saying that *none* can see you, Alexin. I’m merely asking you to be cautious. Let’s test the water first. Let’s enter the city assuming the worst and then we can adjust our behavior according to the reception we find there. Alright?”

Alexin just nodded sulkily.

“It’s just *one* city, Alexin. The world is full of cities. And...” he paused, took a deep breath and finally made the decision. “What I want, what I pray for, is that we can safely make our way to Crystal City and find welcome there. But if we find no welcome here in the south, not even at my home, I’ll take you north to my true homeland. In the Northern Territories, people have no fear of the Faerie and we can make ourselves a life there.”

Alexin’s eyes widened, he gulped a couple of times and then he flushed deeply as though horribly embarrassed.

“What’s wrong?” Skinner asked.

Alexin chewed nervously on his lower lip. “I...I... fear your anger,” he admitted sadly.

“Why would I be angry?”

“Because...because I find myself wishing that we *don’t* find welcome at this ‘Crystal City’ of yours,” Alexin admitted nervously.

Skinner frowned in confusion. “Why, by the Gods, would you wish that?”

Shuffling awkwardly on the spot, unable to meet Skinner’s eyes any longer, Alexin whispered, “Because if we have to flee to the north, I’d finally see the ocean.”

Skinner just looked perplexed for a moment, but then chuckled with laughter. “If it means *that* much to you, boy, I swear that whatever happens I *will* someday take you to see the ocean.”

“You promise?” Alexin demanded, his head jerking up to reveal suddenly luminous eyes. “You’ll take me to see it for myself?”

“It really means that much to you?”

“Yes,” Alexin whispered. “I don’t know why, but it does. Since the moment I first heard of this ‘ocean’, I’ve dreamed of seeing it with my own eyes. I want to touch it, taste it, smell it. I want... oh, I want *so* much to see it, Skinner. Please take me. Oh, please, please take me there.”

“I fear you’re in for a bitter disappointment,” Skinner laughed. “It’s simply a cold, huge, *salty* expanse of water that makes your stomach churn most vilely if you should be unfortunate enough to ride one of the vessels that cross it. But I *promise* I’ll take you there to see it for yourself.”

Alexin actually skipped with excitement, then threw his arms around Skinner and covered his face with happy kisses.

“Gods,” Skinner groaned, as his member leapt with sudden eager interest. “If that’s the reaction I get every time I make you a promise, I fear you’ll soon wrap me around your fingers, boy.”

Alexin just grinned.

They walked on.

The path began to smooth and widen as the city came into view. The city was far smaller than one of the plains cities, smaller even than Skinner’s own city, but it was solidly built with a stone wall to protect it from attack, and its buildings were also built largely from rough hewn stones. As a Chieftain himself, Skinner was appreciative of the way the city had been built to ensure its easy defense. Its occupants were clearly aware of their proximity to Faerie land and had built their city accordingly.

Entrance was through a single, well guarded gateway.

“Keep close to me, look only at the ground and stay silent,” he reminded Alexin, as they approached the guards.

To his relief, the guards looked more bored than alarmed at their approach.

“We give no alms to strangers,” one of them stated bluntly, his eyes glancing dismissively over Skinner’s battered, barely clothed body.

“Though we always have spare beds on offer to pretty girls,” another snickered, with an appreciative look in Alexin’s direction. Although the boy’s face was largely concealed by his posture, what was visible of his profile was still fine enough to make his beauty obvious even to the guards.

Skinner refused to bite, knowing the guards were probably simply itching for a fight to ease their boredom. “I’m here to trade,” he said, withdrawing a few small gems from his bag and flashing them for the guards to see.

Their attitudes changed considerably. They straightened their postures and looked slightly ashamed of themselves. Though Skinner had been careful not to show too much wealth, he’d proven that his appearance was deceptive. The guards were well aware that their Chieftain would be furious if he learned that they’d insulted a man with good coin to spend within the city walls.

“You should have known a beggar wouldn’t have a woman like *that*,” one of the guards hissed angrily at the one who’d accused Skinner of wanting alms.

Instead of answering, the guard simply hurriedly waved Skinner and Alexin through into the city.

Alexin managed to take perhaps ten steps within the walls before halting abruptly and wailing, “It *smells*.”

“Shush,” Skinner warned, though his own nose was wrinkling with similar distaste. It was clear the occupants of the city were more interested in defense than they were in sanitation. “Just be careful where you walk.”

The street they were traversing had a wide, open drainage ditch running through it, and what was flowing through the ditch wasn’t merely water.

Alexin sniffled in disgust, lifted his skirts and practically tiptoed as he cautiously followed in Skinner’s wake. This, naturally, kept his eyes firmly fixed upon the ground, so the only exclamations that were made about their passing were occasional comments about Skinner’s many visible wounds and poor state of dress, and several crude covetous remarks to the effect that if Alexin’s face was as pretty as ‘her’ figure, ‘she’ clearly deserved a far better husband.

The remarks made Skinner growl under his breath, even though he knew Alexin had no idea of what the people around them were saying. Selfishly, he was suddenly *glad* Alexin had such vibrant green eyes. They gave him a genuine reason to find somewhere safe to hide the boy while he himself traversed the city. It wasn’t that he *wanted* to deprive the boy of seeing the city but he was glad to have an excuse to stop the city seeing *Alexin*.

The air cleared a little as they approached the centre of the city and left the open sewers behind. So it was there that Skinner found a small but clean looking inn and led Alexin inside.

“I want a good room for myself and my wife,” he declared, deliberately letting the innkeeper see a flash of gemstones in his hand. Although he’d have no coin to pay for the lodgings until he traded the gems, he wanted Alexin inside the safety of a private room as soon as possible. A demonstration of his wealth should, he judged, be sufficient for the innkeeper to disregard Skinner’s disreputable appearance and treat the pair of them with civility.

He was right. The moment the man’s eyes saw the gems in Skinner’s hands, his unwelcoming expression transformed into a look of genial joviality.

“Of course. We have a fine room that would be perfect for you and your beautiful wife. It overlooks the city square, so you can listen to the minstrels playing there of an even, and it even has its own...” he lowered his voice and whispered in Skinner’s ear “...water closet.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Skinner growled. At least *some* of the city had civilized sanitation. “We require food, wine, a hot bath and then I’ll need directions to one of your jewelers. I have some *small* items to trade,” he said, and winked pointedly at the innkeeper.

The fat man’s face suffused with greed and he gestured quickly for Skinner to be taken to his room without even querying the fact Skinner had, as yet, offered him no payment for the lodgings and food he’d demanded.

“Will you eat here or in your room, Sir?”

“In our room. I keep all my possessions greedily,” Skinner stated, one hand on his sword and the other on his bag of jewels. He decided it wouldn’t hurt, having deliberately awoken the man’s greed, to show the innkeeper he wasn’t a man to be trifled with. “Particularly my wife. I share her beauty with no man.”

Several of the other guests, who were eating their meals at the surrounding tables, muttered amongst themselves. Skinner distinctly heard one of them say, “I told you she was keeping her head down out of fear of that brutish looking husband, rather than through shame. I saw the side of her face as she entered and, I’m telling you, she’s *gorgeous*.”

He smiled internally and, following the directions given him, led Alexin up the stairs to their room.

“Can I speak now?” Alexin asked miserably, when Skinner had locked the door behind them.

“Until the servants arrive with our bath and dinner,” Skinner agreed.

He gestured around the room. “I know it’s not much, but it’s clean at least and I wanted a place where they wouldn’t demand my coin upfront. The less people who see you the better, and the jewelers who can afford to buy our gems will inevitably be in the busiest part of the city. I know you hate to be left alone, but you’ll be able to lock the door behind me when I leave, so you’ll be safe and comfortable here while I’m gone.”

Alexin nodded reluctantly. While the idea of being left alone frightened him, he had to admit it was less terrifying than the idea of entering a marketplace crowded with monkey-people. He blushed slightly, even though he’d only *thought* the words rather spoken them aloud. Then his eyes lit up as he looked around the room.

“A bed,” he breathed. “A real bed. With pillows and blankets and soft, clean sheets.”

“A bed that I have no doubt you’ll make full use of while I battle my way around the market,” Skinner laughed indulgently.

There was a knock on the door and Skinner opened it while Alexin crossed to pretend to look out of the window, and thereby concealed his eyes from view. Two young girls entered the room, one bearing a platter of food and the other a large jug of ale, a skin of wine and two goblets. Two boys entered behind them, struggling with a large iron bath filled to perhaps a third with steaming water.

Skinner moved the table slightly so that Alexin could sit and eat with his back to the door, then encouraged him to make a start on the food while the boys brought pail after pail of water, under Skinner’s supervision, until the bath was filled to his satisfaction.

The innkeeper had sent up a small lunchtime feast. Hot roasted fowl, freshly baked bread, a round of white crumbling cheese, some sliced apples and even a small jar of honey.

Unsurprisingly, Alexin ignored the meat and cheese but attacked the bread and honey with such enthusiasm that he was already replete by the time the boys left and Skinner locked the door behind them.

“You have the first bath while I eat my lunch,” Skinner suggested, deciding not to comment on the honey smeared around Alexin’s mouth. He’d never seen the boy eat messily before, but his own growling stomach fully sympathized with Alexin’s brief act of ravenous greed.

Alexin blushed slightly and bit his lip. “I’ve never been unclothed in front of you before,” he whispered.

“I think I’ve already seen *most* of you, Alexin,” Skinner pointed out gruffly. “But I’ll turn my back until you’re in the water if you prefer.”

Alexin shook his head. “I’m not...not shy of your look,” he said. “You’re my wi... I mean, my mate. You have the right to look upon me.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“What...what if I’m not *entirely* beautiful to your eyes?”

Skinner rolled his eyes in disbelief, unsure whether Alexin was as genuinely nervous as he appeared or simply fishing for compliments. In the end, he decided to err on the side of caution and give the boy the reassurance he was demanding.

“I’ve seen your face, your legs, your lower arms and your... well, your most private places... and I find you totally entrancing. Even if the rest of you is unequal to that beauty, it couldn’t spoil what I’ve already seen. Do you truly believe I could see your chest and shoulders and find them so flawed that your beauty could be spoiled for me?”

“Well... you say I look like a human woman to you,” Alexin blurted. “But I have no breasts such as I witnessed on human women as we passed by them today. Won’t you find the absence to be ugly to your eyes?”

It occurred to Skinner that to make such a comment, Alexin couldn’t have spent the entire journey through the city with his eyes obediently lowered. But since no harm had come to them as a result of the boy’s curiosity, he chose to ignore the small disobedience and simply answer the question.

“You’re a boy, Alexin. In fact, from what you say, by the time the new moon comes, which will be in just a couple more nights, you’ll be a *man*. Do you think I don’t know that? You may be beautiful like a woman, but I have no doubt whatsoever that I lie with a male. Would I take your member into my mouth and drink from it, if I had any worry about taking a male to my bed?”

Alexin blushed a little and looked sheepish as he reached to unfasten the bodice of his gown, then slipped it over his arms and let it drop to the floor.

Skinner took a sudden deep breath. He’d been laughing internally at the boy, not understanding how Alexin could be shy of being naked, given the times that his bottom had been bared for Skinner’s pleasure. As he’d said, he’d already set eyes on the boy’s most private, personal places, so it seemed a little late for any modesty between them.

But seeing Alexin completely bare for the first time *was* completely different.

Stripped completely of clothes, so that nothing of the boy was concealed from Skinner’s eyes, the impact of Alexin’s complete beauty was dazzling.

“You’re perfect,” Skinner gasped. “An absolute vision of perfection.”

He’d always considered Alexin too thin but, unclothed, the line and form of the boy’s body was flawless. Smooth and soft rather than muscled, but entirely without the gangly, bony look of a too thin youth. Alexin’s hips were delicate, yet still padded like a woman’s so that the curve from thigh to waist was as perfectly rounded as a ripe fruit and therefore completely proportional to Alexin’s plump buttocks. His chest was fine and only lightly muscled, but he had sufficient flesh to smooth the outlines of his ribs. His stomach was flat, but not taut and muscular like Skinner’s own. Instead it was as soft as a young girl’s.

If anything, Skinner realized with surprise, Alexin was possibly even a little overweight for his fine frame. Yet the result of that slight padding of flesh was simply to smooth the lines of Alexin’s body so that the picture he presented was as sensuous and inviting as any naked form could be.

He’d previously thought Alexin a little pale, but in its entirety the blue-white shimmer of the boy’s flesh was dazzling to his eyes. He’d privately always thought Alexin’s hair too long, but seeing the way the silken tresses swept under the boy’s buttocks and spread like dark wings around Alexin’s delicate hips, Skinner decided it was a perfect length to gleefully tangle his hands in whenever he took the boy’s buttocks into his hands.

Skinner flushed as the thought struck him that, had he the choice, he’d never wish to see Alexin clothed again. It was no wonder a Faerie wife chose to keep her husband cloistered in her bedchamber. He’d lay odds, then and there, that no male was *ever* clothed inside his wife’s room.

And it shamed him to admit to himself that he too would keep Alexin’s extraordinary beauty permanently naked for the pleasure of his own eyes, had he the power to do so.

“Your bath’s getting cold,” he said, his tone gruff to cover his sudden disquiet at the idea he was more like a Faerie female in nature than he’d ever dare admit aloud to his beautiful lover.

“But...but I please you?” Alexin whispered, his eyes pleading for reassurance.

“You please me so much it near blinds me to look upon you,” Skinner admitted heavily.

Then he smirked to lighten the mood. “But you’ll please me even more when you’re clean.”

Alexin preened a little, his eyes dropping coyly and his movements deliberately graceful as he climbed into the bathwater as though to ensure Skinner’s eyes continued to feast upon him through the entire process.

He *definitely* smirked a little when Skinner exhaled an involuntary gasp of disappointment as Alexin’s body finally disappeared under the cover of the steaming water.

“Enticing, bewitching, infuriatingly *vain* boy,” Skinner muttered to himself and snatched at the jug of ale, in the hope that a cup would ease the sudden aching hardness in his groin. He couldn’t even blame the magic for his arousal this time. His blood was steady, its magic currently satiated and dormant, but he *still* had the overwhelming urge to grab Alexin by the hair, drag him out of the bath, throw him onto the bed and drive his member inside him until that pale, bluish skin was rose-red and sex flushed, and that pleased little smirk was replaced with the slack mouthed stupor of a truly well ridden boy.

Instead, he poured himself a drink, chewed ravenously on some roasted fowl, and accepted the lesser pleasure of watching Alexin attempt to bathe himself.

By the time Alexin had lost the slippery soap in the water for the eighth or ninth time, Skinner was convulsing with laughter rather than lust.

“You’ve never even *washed* yourself before, have you, you spoiled, pampered boy?” he chuckled.

Alexin’s lips quivered miserably and his eyes filled with immediate tears.

“Calm down,” Skinner grunted. “I wasn’t criticizing you. It’s just hard sometimes to imagine someone living their whole life without once lifting a finger to their own care. If it were safe to do so, I’d hire someone to tend to you properly, Alexin. But it’s too risky and there’s little point in you expecting a crusty old warrior like me to play nurse. So you may as well get used to caring for yourself.”

“Even my hair?” Alexin sniffled.

Skinner shook his head. “I’ll do you a deal. You take care of the rest of yourself, and I’ll tend to your hair. Is that acceptable?”

Alexin looked less than totally satisfied, but nodded with obvious relief to Skinner’s offer to take responsibility for his hair.

“Now let me have the water before it’s totally cold. I want to get out to the market this afternoon,” Skinner said.

Alexin’s eyes began to fill once more and he opened his mouth in protest but, before he could speak, Skinner hurriedly added, “To buy you a proper hairbrush and some nicer clothes.”

Alexin’s threatened pout instantly transformed into a happy, contented smile. He climbed out of the tub, dripped water all over the floor, and then simply shivered and stared at Skinner with huge innocent eyes until, with a grunt of understanding, Skinner reached for a towel and began patting Alexin dry.

So much for the agreement he would only tend to Alexin’s hair. Alexin made no effort to help. He just stood there, in such clear expectation that he would be dried completely that Skinner found himself doing so.

“I am *so* wrapped around your fingers,” Skinner muttered to himself gruffly, lowering himself into the now barely lukewarm tub. “Completely and absolutely bewitched.”

Yet, even to himself, it didn’t sound like a complaint.


 

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