Snowdrop Page 5

  “No, I mean yes,” Snow panted.

  Robin chuckled as he slid back until Snow’s restraints prevented him going further. Then he bent at the waist and dropped his face into Snow’s lap. He burrowed his nose into the triangle of soft, thin hair and breathed deeply. Snow smelled a bit like an aroused human male, but more like something else: earthy and floral, like the scent of the fields intensified by the rain. Robin planted a few kisses on the base of Snow’s cock before running his tongue slowly up the length. He licked circles around the dripping head, teasing Snow, making him squirm and whimper before allowing him to slip into Robin’s eager mouth. When Robin sucked hard on his tip, the fey mumbled a few words in his native language. Robin didn’t understand them, but their melody excited him, and he plunged down on Snow’s cock. It skipped within his throat, and Snow muttered and groaned.

  Taking his time, Robin experimented to see what his partner might like. He discovered Snow enjoyed his balls jiggled but not squeezed, and that he didn’t mind a brush of Robin’s teeth. Robin took him deep into his throat, and then sucked hard on just the head of his penis. When he did, Snow’s nails sunk into Robin’s back. Robin sucked with all his might, his tongue working furiously against the underside groove of Snow’s dick. The faerie swiveled his hips and clawed at Robin’s skin.

  “I’m going to come, Robin,” he cried. He thrust the head of his penis against the roof of Robin’s mouth. “Oh, I’m coming! I haven’t been allowed—for so long. Oh, Robin, yes!”

  Snow’s seed showered Robin’s tongue and ran down his throat as Robin hurried to swallow it. He licked away all that remained and held Snow’s cock in his mouth as it softened. Then he sat up and moved close to the faerie again. He kissed Snow’s cheeks and ear, pleased with the satisfied smile on his partner’s face.

  “Should I let you go now?”

  “No. I still want you to fuck me, Robin.”

  “Hold on to me.”

  “Always.”

  Robin snaked his arm beneath Snow’s knees and lifted him as the faerie clung to his neck. He stood and carried Snow to the bed. “How do you want to be?” he asked.

  “However you want,” Snowdrop answered.

  “I’d like to look at your face.”

  “I’d like that too,” Snow said.

  Robin lowered him down, and Snow wrapped his legs around Robin’s waist. He was hard again already, and his dick poked into Robin’s belly button. Robin lifted his head and placed a pillow beneath it, kissing along his upper arm as he did so. He spit into his hand and rubbed the moisture across Snow’s cleft. He felt the faerie’s hole convulse under his fingers, pulsing as he circled and wet it. He pressed one finger, then two, inside his faerie partner. Snow gasped as Robin twisted them and drove them deep. His waist bowed up off the bed as Robin enjoyed watching his digits disappear into Snow’s pale flesh. Robin wanted him ready, didn’t want him uncomfortable, so he took his time to open and stretch him. Finally satisfied, he removed his hand and kissed the faerie again. Then Robin took hold of his cock at the base and guided himself toward Snow’s opening. He met resistance at first and pushed forward tentatively, unwilling to cause any discomfort to his partner. Snow pushed back against him. They ground against each other’s flesh for a few minutes, and then all opposition disappeared, and Robin slid his cockhead into Snow. Tight heat surrounded him. Snow’s muscles massaged him, milking out his seed. The rhythmic pressure on Robin’s dick felt so incredible that he almost came without moving at all.

  “Oh, Snow,” he said, sucking the faerie’s earlobe as he enjoyed the spasms of his body. “Oh God, you feel so good.” Robin’s hands danced along Snowdrop’s arms, the shelf of his chest muscles, and his prominent ribs. The faerie’s hole hugged the head of his cock, sending warm waves of pleasure through Robin’s belly. His heels dug into Robin’s lower back, urging him forward.

  “Not yet, Robin,” Snow said. “Please not yet.”

  “I’ll try.” Robin delved in slowly, holding on to Snow’s hips to steady himself.

  “Oh Gods, there!” Snow squealed, and Robin stabbed up against his sweet spot, forcing out droplets of come that wet his stomach. His hands moved up Snow’s body as he thrust slowly, dragging his cock back and forth over the faerie’s gland. He reached up to hold Snow’s wrists and let his chest drop against the other man. He felt Snow’s heart pounding against his sternum as he pushed inside him. Snow’s hot breath washed over the side of Robin’s face as he struggled to dam his orgasm and please his partner. He bit his lip until he almost drew blood, but he couldn’t hold it. He pumped into Snow, trying to grant him release before he exploded.

  “Kiss me, Robin,” the faerie begged.

  Robin gladly complied, sucking Snow’s lips into his mouth as he drove his cock into his warm and accommodating body. The faerie’s tongue prodded against Robin’s teeth as he tried to match his thrusts. A sheen of sweat covered both men’s skins. Their scents filled the room, and the slapping of their bodies drowned out the distant thunder. Robin drove Snow’s bound wrists into the soft bedclothes as he sat up to look at his face. It glowed with perspiration, a few strands of white hair plastered to Snow’s cheeks. Robin licked away the stream of sweat that ran down Snow’s temple and found his lips again. Their tongues churned the heat and salt. Robin broke the kiss as he came hard inside the faerie. Snow’s eyes crinkled shut as he shot another fount of come over his belly. Robin continued to pump into his lover until he’d given everything he had. Then he fell forward across Snow’s body, closed his eyes, and breathed the fragrance of the faerie’s damp skin and the seed squishing between their bodies.

  Feeling too languid to bother picking apart the knot, Robin retrieved his dagger from his belt and cut Snow’s hands free. He’d never been so satisfied, so completely drained. He lay holding his beautiful partner against his chest for a long time before he managed to stand, stumble to the washroom, and wet a cloth. After he’d wiped Snow’s striking body clean, Robin attended to himself. He let the wet rag fall beside the bed, unwilling to leave Snowdrop’s side again. The faerie curled against him, his leg wrapping around Robin’s thighs. His eyes flickered closed against Robin’s chest.

  “Oh, beautiful,” Robin said, petting Snowdrop’s shining hair. “You were wonderful.”

  “You too,” Snow said. “I needed that.”

  “Can you, I don’t know, make it longer ’til morning?” Robin asked.

  The fey only laughed and stroked Robin’s hair until he fell asleep.

  Robin dreamt he heard Snowdrop singing, or maybe Snowdrop sang to him as he slept. His lilting, velvety voice washed over Robin like a summer shower. It filled him with both peace and regret.

  TOO soon the morning sun peeked through the cleft in the curtains, rousing Robin and reminding him of his unusual situation. Snowdrop stood looking out the window, dressed in the too-large clothing they’d stolen from Maxwell Bunge.

  “We have a train to catch,” Snow said.

  Robin nodded numbly and got into his clothes. The two of them walked to the station, purchased tickets, and boarded the N-Line. Snowdrop’s talents easily convinced everyone that he was merely a passenger, human and plain. He allowed only Robin to see him in his true form. They rode most of the way to the wall in silence. When they arrived at Enline Station, Snow shook Robin’s hand. Not a word of farewell passed between them. Robin watched as his faerie lover disappeared into the crowd. He thrust his hands into his coat pockets and asked himself what he’d expected.

  Chapter 4

  OVER the past few weeks, Robin had been staying at the Blackthorn. He’d paid a month in advance for one of the nicer rooms, with a feather mattress and a washtub. It had nothing on the lovely inn in Kilfallow, but Robin didn’t want to flash his newfound wealth and raise questions about where it had come from. Though he didn’t need to, he still visited Enline Station most afternoons. Now that he no longer needed to pick pockets, he found little to occupy his time. He blamed his foul moods, which grew blac
ker and more persistent by the day, on restlessness and ennui.

  Tedium couldn’t account for the strange perceptions that had plagued Robin ever since leaving Snow. He saw the faerie’s shining hair in every crowd, and a few times he’d grabbed his shoulder, only to find an ordinary man or even a shocked lady. He heard the slow tune he’d heard Snow sing constantly, sometimes so loud he couldn’t hear others speaking to him. He smelled him: clover honey and rain. Snowdrops grew from the wooden walkway and disappeared when Robin bent to pluck one. Dreams of his time with the fey disrupted his rest. He barely slept a few hours a night and usually woke sure he’d find Snow beside him. He could think of nothing else, not even drink or food. He took the photographs from his pocket and petted them before he realized he’d done so, sometimes in the middle of a public thoroughfare. Robin knew he had to purge himself of this madness, but he didn’t know how.

  He was in a particularly nasty disposition as he strode through the station. The hot afternoon did nothing to improve his temperament as he perspired beneath the smart new coat he’d purchased. It was fawn-colored with coffee cuffs and lapels that matched his dressy trousers. Beneath it he wore a green waistcoat embroidered with yellow flowers. As soon as he’d seen the fabric, he knew he wanted to have it with him all the time. He’d paid the tailor far too much.

  Robin wanted to talk to Lila, and he scanned the crowds for her purple dress. Eventually he found her stumbling about in front of the confectioner with a girl in a gaudy, orange gown that clashed hard against her light red hair.

  “Lila,” Robin said, hurrying over and taking her gloved hand. “Can I have a word?”

  “Robin!” she shrieked, diving into his arms and almost knocking him over. “Oh, my Robin, my dearest darling!” She kissed him sloppily on the cheek and kept her arm around his waist as she motioned to her companion. Robin smelled the gin on her breath and knew she’d probably been at her tonic as well.

  “Robin, this here’s me mate Shannon. Now Shannon, ain’t Robin just the most beautiful boy you ever seen?” Lila’s words slurred together. She pinched Robin’s cheek, and he swatted her hand away, getting more irritated.

  “Lila I need to speak with you. Please. It’s important. Something happened to me a few weeks ago, and… and I think I’m going crazy.”

  “Should I leave the two of you alone?” Shannon said with an exaggerated wink.

  “Don’t I wish?” Lila said, smacking her friend on the shoulder. She hiccupped and covered her mouth a minute too late. Both girls roared with laughter.

  “Lila,” Robin pleaded, “I need your help.”

  Her laughter finished with a snort. “What?”

  “I need to talk to you,” he repeated.

  Shannon put her arm around the other side of Robin’s waist, and he barely kept his balance as the two whores stumbled and swayed. “I think you need to have a party with us,” Shannon said, stroking Robin’s chest.

  “Aw, have a party with us, Robin!” Lila bounced up and down, nearly fell over, clutched Shannon’s hand, and laughed for another five minutes.

  “Damn it,” Robin said, pushing their arms away.

  “What’s the matter?” Shannon said. “Don’t like girls?”

  “You called that!” Lila hollered. They held each other’s shoulders to stay on their feet as they chortled and roared.

  Robin stalked angrily away but turned back after a few steps. “I needed you today, Lila!” he yelled, pointing his finger at her. “I needed you to be my friend more than I ever have, and you can’t even listen to me!”

  “Now just a minute, Robin—”

  “No. Never mind.” He headed for the tavern at the western end of the station, hoping a few drinks might douse his ire.

  “Buy a snowdrop, sir?” called a young girl.

  “What did you say?” Robin snarled as he spun around.

  The flower-girl cowered and held out the basket overflowing with honey-scented, white blossoms. Their petals drifted lazily down and piled around her feet.

  “Where did you get all of those?” Robin demanded, making the poor child flinch again.

  “My family grows them,” she said. “Do you want to buy one? They’re only a penny.” She reached into her basket and handed him a small, green apple.

  Robin looked at the rest of the apples in the basket, just apples, nothing else. He needed to get a hold of himself! “I’ll buy one,” he said, handing the girl a coin before hurrying guiltily away.

  “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” he asked himself over and over again as he walked with his head down and his hands in his pockets. He still smelled the lingering fragrance of flowers that had never existed. The music in his head grew louder. “Damn. What am I going to do?”

  “You alright, lad?” asked an elderly shopkeeper as Robin passed.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “Leave me alone.”

  The old man quickly reached into his white apron, pulled out an oversized monocle and inspected Robin from head to toe.

  Laughing, Robin stopped and held his arms out to his sides. “Go on then, look! Tell me what you see! Can you see it on me, then?”

  “You be off,” the man said, shaking his fist at Robin. “Be off before I call the station guards.”

  Robin saw that two of the guards across the tracks had already noticed the commotion and were heading toward him. He put his hands back in his pockets and hurried away, opting to try one of the taverns in Enline instead of the one at the end of the station.

  I just need a man, he thought as he headed down the dusty road toward the town. I need a man to take my mind off Snow. He resolved to find one, even if he had to settle. Even though it was early, not yet dinnertime, he went into the first pub he found: a rough little place, barely more than a wooden shack, called Railway Rest. The patrons turned toward him suspiciously as he went in the door. Robin chuckled at the irony. Before, he hadn’t belonged because he was too shabby, now he stood out for being too fine. He ignored the stares and whispers and looked around at the dirt floor and mismatched furniture. Smoke from pipes and cheap, tallow candles hung in a yellowish cloud just below the ceiling. Then something in the far corner caught Robin’s eye.

  “Snow!” He rushed toward the shock of white hair, nearly tripping over the tables and chairs. He reached out to touch the light tresses, ready to weep with joy. An ancient whore turned to him and smiled, flashing him her toothless gums.

  “Why hello there, laddy-boy,” she said, taking a draw from her cigarette.

  “I beg your pardon,” Robin mumbled, backing away. She cackled and turned her attention back to her drink. Robin rubbed his eyes with his fingers, as if he could wipe away whatever Snow had done to them, and took a seat at the bar. He ordered a whiskey, downed it, and called for another. It calmed him down a little, and he swiveled on his stool to take stock of the men in the tavern. A trio of elderly gents in kilts sat puffing on their pipes, their lanky, gray wolfhounds curled beneath the table. Two younger fellows sat beneath the legs and rump of a plump harlot, their hands under her skirt. The rest of the patrons drank in groups, huddled noisily around the shoddy tables. Robin ordered a third drink, and on his empty stomach it went to his head. He noticed a man watching him from across the room.

  He was a burly, middle-aged fellow with thick, blond curls and a reddish beard. From his clothes, Robin guessed him to be a farmer of some kind, likely in town to load his wares onto the trains bound for one of the cities to the south. He raised his mug of dark beer an inch, and Robin raised his glass in return. This might do, he thought. He ordered a beer of his own, since he didn’t need any more whiskey, and joined the man at his table near the entrance.

  “Good day, sir,” he said, putting his hand on the back of a chair.

  “Good day, young man.” The farmer nodded at the chair in invitation, and Robin sat down. “What can I do for you?”

  Robin smiled and said, “I’m on my own and just looking for a way to pass the time.”

&nb
sp; “That so?”

  “It is. And you, sir? Do you have time to pass? Are you on your own as well?”

  “Seems I am. Sold a cart of wool this morning, and won’t be heading home ’til tomorrow. So what’s your name?”

  Robin heard a musical giggle and the words nice try. He looked over his shoulder, into the smoggy recesses of the pub.

  “You alright, lad?”

  “Fine. Listen, I think I’ll go into the washroom.” He gave the shepherd a meaningful look. Robin just wanted a quick screw; they’d spoken enough already.

  “Aye,” the man said, nodding in agreement and squeezing Robin’s knee under the table.

  ROBIN stood with his back to the door of the loo and his pants down around his ankles. The sheep rancher, whose name Robin didn’t care to know, knelt in front of him, doing a passable job of sucking his cock. Robin made a show of moaning softly and holding the man’s hair, but in truth he couldn’t even get hard. The man’s rough kisses had tasted like bitter beer and tarweed, and the unpleasant flavor clung to Robin’s mouth. His whiskers had scratched Robin’s face, and he smelled like a barnyard. Though he didn’t approve of poor hygiene, he’d been able to overlook it in the past, if he grew desperate enough, and especially if it meant getting his dick sucked, but all he could think of was Snow: his soft skin, sweet lips, and lovely fragrance. He tried to put it out of his mind and concentrate on the sensation of a warm and eager mouth wrapped around his shaft.

  Finally the farmer stood up and wiped his lips dry with his sleeve. “What do you say we try something else?”